The Totally Messed Up Story of a Teenaged Thief
by Fantabulasogurl
Summary: Hannah isn't a normal girl, she'd rather wear sweats than heels, she has a black belt (not the kind you can get from Juicy), and her dream job is kicking butt for fun. She's the muscle on a crew of six thieves, and their highly chaotic life gets even more messed up when a new ( and ridiulously attractive) guy enters the fray.
1. A Pickpocket, Pressure, and a Punch

_**Chapter One**_

Laughter echos in the small room, bouncing off the kitchen walls and appliances. I roll my eyes and hop on the counter, ignoring the cool granite. Liam, slides up beside me, our legs touching until I uncomfortably move away. Hoping to avoid his gaze, which I'm sure is on me, I glance around the room before my eyes linger on the small gap beneath the door. I tilt my head, wondering if that little blotch of denim means what I think it does.

"So we'll start with the bank today," Peter starts, talking to the group and trying to start the meeting, despite our inclination to fool around. but I shake my head, and gesture for him to stop. I study the crack in the door and spot a scrap of blue fabric. Silently moving to the door, I fling it open, exposing the highly embarrassed and extremely stupid guy, listening at our keyhole. How he found the one door that hasn't been sound-proofed yet is a mystery. Peter scrambles to his feet in an instant, dragging him into the room.

"You don't want to hurt me, I can help you." The little ease dropper insists. Peter has him by the scruff of his neck as he throws him to the floor. I cross my arms over my chest and look down at him. He isn't all that scrawny, but compared to broad-shouldered, six-foot tall Peter the kid is miniscule.

"How do you intend to do that?" Liam asks. Liam speaks with tone I know all too well, the con. He's giving him room to move, just enough, waiting to see if he'll trap himself. I lock eyes with him from across the room, green meeting blue, the silent conversation passing between us. The scrap is the one to break the moment.

"Well I could be the muscle, or at least help. I mean I'm a fighter…" He trails off, sparing a glance at Peter behind him. I can't help but laugh. He looks at me for the first time. "What?" He wonders. I crouch down at his level.

"Fighting is already taken care of." I tell him. I watch as he looks me up and down, hovering at my chest. Eventually he pats my shoulder, and I flinch.

"It sweet that you're protecting your boyfriend's place on the team and I'll admit you are an excellent token female thief…" He starts but before he can finish I grab his arm and send him sprawling over my shoulder. He's still dazed and on the ground when I'm upright, leaning against the opposite wall from where I started.

"That's why extra help in the fighting department isn't necessary" I end the debate, he laughs a little breathlessly.

"Okay then; I'm excellent with explosives." He informs us. I roll my eyes as Danny frantically protests. Peter cuts him off with a look.

"No." His tone ends the discussion.

"Bankrolling, plans, tech. conning; I can do it all." He tells us, and I can see the begging in his eyes. He seems desperate now but Liam speaks up, shutting down any hope, before it can flourish.

"Peter's the brains, James is the cash, Owen is tech, and _I'm_ the con artist." He tells him, glaring with his icy eyes, and I can see it; Liam just willing the rat to try to challenge **his** job. There's desperation in the little squirt's face as he stands and raises his hands above his head.

"Okay then, I guess; I'll just go," He finally concedes edging towards the door as six thieves stare him down, watching his every move. He's almost out the door when he stops and tilts his head, like he's considering something.

"Unless this changes things," He wonders, holding six wallets up in the air for us to see. The twit's got an arrogant smirk on his face. In a split second, I'm in front of him ripping my purse out of hands. He grins at me, until I sweep his legs out from under him, sending him sprawling on the hardwood floor once again.

"First rule: don't con thieves." I order, sparing a small kick to his ribs, not hard enough to break anything, but just enough to leave a painful bruise for the next few days. I spin on my heel quickly moving up the stairs and around the corner.

…

"Move it shrimp." I order "gently" guiding him through the courtyard. He rolls his eyes at me and mumbles something that sounds a little like "I'm taller than you." I choose to ignore that comment.

"Tell me again, what are we doing?" He asks as he follows me through the crowd. His voice is just right, loud enough for me to hear, but not loud enough for the passerby to pick up on. I grit my teeth. I know he's not really new to the game, but it bothers me to no end, that he's sooo good.

"_We_ are making sure you know, what the hell, you're doing." I snarl at him over my shoulder, I flinch when I spot a startled little girl who's looking at me like I'm holding a steak knife and cackling.

"Too loud" The little squirt reprimands me, all the while wrapping his arm arond my waist. I shirk away, resisting the urge to snap his arm in half like a chicken wing.

"Excuse me!" I demand crossing my arms. He rolls his eyes, like _I'm_ the amateur. He grabs my wrist, and gently tugs me through the crowd. I'm so surprised, that I don't attack, but I yank my wrist out of his grip.

"Your voice," He sighs, "You're talking too loud." I turn roughly the shade of a tomato at his comment, mostly because I know it's true. On the inside, I'm insanely embarrassed, but the image I'm projecting has a cocky smirk.

"Whatever new-bee" I roll my eyes. "Just get on with the job." I remind him.

"Okay, then…" He says, quickly pushing me up against the door of the building next to me. It doesn't hurt, which is the part that comes as a surprising. Nothing he's done has hurt me. I've been in fight after fight after fight, and I know there's no such thing as a gentle thief, but this kid might be an exception to that rule. He puts his hands on either side of my face and leans into me. I'm frozen with shock, normally no one would dare to try to put me in this position. My breath catches in my throat as goosebumbs spread across my skin. I'm not used to this, I have no idea how to deal with this, my mind is refusing to think rationally.

The only thing that surprises me more is when he kisses me. His lips are soft and gentle on mine, just the barest brush before he moves away. His chocolate-brown eyes lock on my blue ones, and I can feel the blush burning on my cheeks. I can practically feel Liam's fury from here as the Communication Unit in my ear goes silent.

"Do me, a favor, call me my name from now on" He breathes, in the opposite ear from my coms. I know for a fact that no one can hear him. His lips brush the sensitive skin and I can barely repress a shiver. Wouldn't that be humiliating...

"Okay… Jason." I pant, wrapping my fingers through his hair. _What the hell am I doing?_ I mentally shriek, before unwinding my hands from his dark hair, despite the fact that all I want to do is pull him back to me and kiss him till I physically can't anymore. What is wrong with me?

"What the hell do you **_think_**you're doing?" Liam demands; rounding the corner. I blush, this is a little awkward. That's when I notice Jason's hand in between the door and the frame. To Liam's surprise I speak up.

"I'm sorry, but it's my choice. We met on the job. He treats me without pressure; don't blame him for stealing me away." I sigh, prancing over to Jason and taking his arm.

I flick my eyes the camera above our heads. Liam's eyes light up as he picks apart the words and shrugs. True to character, Liam lunges at Jason, the two of them go rolling into the building through the door.

Jason wasn't lying when he said he was decent in a fight, but Liam is well… Liam. I shriek and fly into the room, playing the damsel in distress pretty well, if I do say so myself.

Jason manages to wink at me when he has a spare second, arrogantly grinning. I can't help but find the scene strangely ironic, two guys fighting over my affections, like that would ever happen. Most guys run screaming, away from me, or think of me as a younger sister.

Before long, security guards arrive, crashing through the door. I scream, the shriek probably being heard for miles around. I hear Danny and Owen complaining through my coms. Various alarms are blaring throughout the room as the rent-a-cops pry Jason and Liam apart.

Jason stumbles back, off-balance, into one of the computers. I shake my head a little as he plugs the flash drive into the hard drive. As we're ushered out of the building, with stern reprimands; Owen is hacking into the bank's computer system.

…

Three hours later, I'm sitting in Liam's room. My eyes skim over the maps and diagrams plastered on the walls. We've lived in many places, Paris, Rome, Greece, London, Beijing, Tokyo, Rio, but New York City was really home. Peter kept the place up, making sure we knew this was where to come if we were ever in trouble, or ever wanted in on a job; because he _always_ had a job at hand.

"He's really good." Liam finally says. "Like really good."I nod, fidgeting. "I wonder?" Liam starts then his eyes soften and his previously playful expression turns serious. Liam's very rarely serious so the change captures my attention.

"Hannah?" He asks, tilting my chin up and demanding my full attention. "You knew ahead of time right, he didn't just start attacking you." He asks, looking into my eyes sympathetically, but ready to protect me, to get revenge. It takes me a minute before I realize he's talking about the kiss. I look into Liam's eyes without hesitation.

"Of course he told me, if he hadn't he'd be missing a head by now." I lied. Liam's the master of lies, but he trusts me, and common sense says I wouldn't put up with that. Liam just nods either falling for my lie or fine with letting it go. It's not like he enjoys digging into my private life. His playful smile returns.

"GET DOWN HERE!" A brutish voice yells up the stairs. Liam flops back down on to his bed, grinning up at me.

"Come on, can't I just sleep and ice my face?" Liam asks, touching his jaw where Jason hit him. I roll my eyes and start to pull him up, but he pulls me back down with him. His arms loop around my waist, keeping me close and I'm sprawled across his chest. I can feel the blush burning my cheeks, but when he just tilts his head and studies me, my heart skips a beat. I look into his gorgeous green eyes and suddenly finding myself wondering what it would be like if he kissed me. We're still unintentionally in his bed together, with me on top of him, when Owen walks in.

"Come on guys, Peter's….." Owen's eyes widen as he sees us. I quickly roll off of Liam and land on my feet while he is backing out of the room. "Okay then, I'll just… uh umm, I'll just go now." He stutters, closing the door behind him.

"We should head down," Liam mutters, afraid to meet my eyes. I can understand why, any other guy would be hunched over in pain by now. Despite it all, I kind of want Liam to make a move. We head down the stairs awkwardly, staring in opposite directions and being careful not to touch. When we step in the living room, we hear Owen talking.

"You will not believe what I just walked in on" He starts. I clear my throat and he looks over his shoulder. His eyes widen and he swallows. "Nothing, absolutely nothing" no one believes the pathetic lie of course, but they know well enough to ask questions. Well most of them know well enough.

"Oh, please, how old are we, five?" Jason scoffs, ignoring the glares I'm sending him. "We all know you two were up there making-out can't you just admit it?" Liam and Peter take steps forward, but I get there first, sending a solid punch to his nose. Six faces gawk at me as his head smacks into the table with a satisfying thump.

"That felt good," I admit; taking my seat at the table.


	2. Bruises, a Blueprint, and a Blocked Exit

Chapter 2

James drops an ice pack in front of Jason's unconscious figure. I raise an eyebrow at him.

"What, I can remember the first time _you_ hit _me_." He shrugs, sitting down beside me. "He'll wake up, right?" He asks, looking at us with a worried expression on his face. I shrug but Owen laughs.

"Most definitely; but he'll have a wicked a headache in the morning. On the bright side, he won't have a concussion and he'll only have some minor bruising." Owen assures the group in general. James shrugs and Liam sits down across from me, still blushing.

"So can I ask without being hit?" Danny says. I feel the blush burning my cheeks once again. "Were you two….." He trails off, sensing his imminent death. I glance quickly at Liam before answering.

"No." I admit, blankly. Liam looks at me and it's almost as if I can read his mind. _Unfortunately. _I push that thought out of my mind. Liam and I together wouldn't work, it would be just too complicated.

"Okay then." Danny mumbles, a little surprised by my answer. I don't why everyone suddenly jumped to that conclusion. It's not like me and Liam had ever…. Sure I had a itty bitty crush on Liam when I was younger but we've always been just friends. "Should we wait for him to wake up or…"He asks, glancing at Peter for confirmation.

"I have some questions for him when he wakes up, but for now we're fine." Peter concludes, lying blueprints out on the table. As a group, we gather around staring at the diagram, with all the security measure outlined.

"That's a problem," James mutters, pointing at the later grid surrounding the target. Owen looks offended.

"I could shut it down." He reminds us. Peter shakes his head.

"Backup generators, motion sensitive cameras and live guards, all linked to his cell phone." Peter confirms, pointing at three different parts on the roll of paper. Danny shrugs and looks away from the sketch looking at Peter.

"I hate to say it but, we're not going to touch this thing, let alone get in and get out with it." Danny grumbles, essentially having given up. I send him a glare.

"Let's just take a minute. Liam could probably draw the guards away from the door, or... I could help them take a nap. Not to mention there are ways to get to something without touching the ground." I remind them all. Peter glances at Danny, who has spent plenty of time trying to grab at something while being suspended from the ceiling with cables. I tilt my head studying the diagram more thoroughly.

"What's this room?" Owen asks, pointing at the square next to the safe.

"Office" Peter tells us, looking at a different picture. I squirm, as it's starting to become uncomfortable with all of us jostling to see the paper. We all used to fit around this table easily; then again I'm pretty sure I was nine then, and could peer over the guys (excluding Peter). Danny's bony little elbow is jamming in my ribs, and I'm uncomfortably close to Liam, especially after our little incident earlier.

"I didn't do it!" Jason shouts, suddenly jerking up. "Wait, what happened?"He asks, rubbing his eyes as we all turn to look at him. Liam gives me a look like "_your turn_". I blush and inspect my nails feeling the blush rising on my cheeks.

"You were acting like a jerk." I mutter, like that explains everything. Jason looks at Peter and Liam for confirmation, and they just shrug.

"She beat me to the punch, literally." Liam laughs, wrapping a brotherly arm around my shoulders. I find myself pleasantly leaning into him. Happily, I tilt my head and smile up at him, until I realize how stupid I must look. Immediately, I shrug his arm off of my and step back towards the blueprints.

"So… what are we stealing?" Jason asks, holding the ice pack to his face and peaking over my shoulder. His hot breath hits my neck, bringing goosebumps to my skin. To my surprise, Peter rolls up the diagram before he can see it.

"_You_ might not be stealing anything." Peter growls, his eyes locking on Jason's.

"What, you still don't trust me?" Jason complains spreading his arms wide. "Come on, Peter, I played your games, I passed your trial job… right Owen?" He turns to him who fervently nods. "And you agree, don't you Hannah?" He murmurs; turning towards me and grinning, I step back.

"I'm sorry, I can't say I do, but I recognize I liar when I see one." I spit, my voice laced with venom. Peter's hand lands on my shoulder.

"I can't help but say I agree with Hannah, you claim you're just a pickpocket, who stays alive by running short cons." Peter tilts his head, stepping a little closer and studying Jason carefully.

"And?" He demands, shoving his hands into his back pockets. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Liam step in front of the exit.

"I've met a few pickpockets in my day, and none of them know any of the things you know." Peter explains, his eyes cold.

"So what, I learn stuff." Jason grumbles.

"Not your best lie." Liam scolds, drawing Jason's eyes to the blocked exit.

"You wouldn't have noticed the camera, or the pressure sensors, or even the proper con voice without training." I tell him, perching on the counter. He looks me up and down like he's surprised I'm speaking up. I raise an eyebrow, and cross my arms over my chest. He just shakes his head. No guy will ever intimidate me, even if it's a guy who's kissed me. Even if that kiss almost drove me insane, and I never wanted it to end, even if...

"Fine, you want the truth?" Jason finally groans, running his hands through his hair.

"That'd be helpful." Liam sneers, and I can't help but agree with him. Jason looks at me, the pleading clear in his expression, and I urge myself to keep my features blank. I watch as he pinches the bridge of his nose and turns to look at Peter.

"Fine," He repeats and takes a deep breath. "My full name is Jason Harris." He finally admits, boldly locking eyes with Peter, despite the gasps of surprise and the shocked expressions of everyone around him. "I need a place to stay… and hopefully work."


	3. Complications

Chapter Three

"So what, are you going to throw me out on the street now?" Jason demands. I glance at Liam's face first, his expression soft. My heart sinks, empathy flooding through me, from the first time I stood in this kitchen, praying to God, for acceptance.

"Why'd you leave the Harris's?" Peter asks his expression somber. "They're one of the best families out there, with the best crew and the best resources, why would you give all that up?" Peter cast his eyes down and shakes his head.

"My brother, he had some ideas for a job." He admits, shaking his head back and forth and taking a deep breath before he continues. "I'm a thief, my moral compass doesn't exactly point north, but I wasn't about to steal from a children's' medical fund." He looks up, his chocolate-brown eyes meeting mine. "I couldn't do it." He finally admits his voice breaking. My heart lurches and my stomach drops.

Sympathy and maternal urges aren't really things that come easily to me, especially with my profession, but the pained look in Jason's eyes makes me want to rush over to him and wrap my arms around him. My rational side is reminding me a professional con artist is speaking, and his story is _supposed_ to tug on my heart-strings.

"So you just left?" Peter asks. Only he could keep a truly straight face in this situation. I tilt my chin up, knowing I should stay expressionless. Jason glances at me quickly before asking.

"Does it really matter?" He snarls; his tone sharp again. This I'm comfortable with, anger and annoyance is what I grew up with. I glare at him, sliding off the counter.

"It matters because we need to know if they're coming after you." I remind him, my expression icy. He holds my glare, his expression just as fierce as mine.

"I told them I couldn't do it and they kicked me out. Okay?! My own family kicked me out when I tried to do the right thing, are you happy now?!" He demands, pushing me out of his way, and making for the door. My vision flares red, no one can get away with that. I reach back and grab his wrist, twisting him back to me.

"Don't you dare talk to me like that" I hiss, shoving him backwards. I can barely believe the jerk who stands in front of me is the same guy who I pitied a minute ago. I can see the fury in his eyes, burning bright and powerful. Despite the clear anger, his voice is quiet when he speaks again.

"Maybe I should go; it's obvious I'm not wanted here." He mutters, turning up the hood in his jacket and walking to Liam, "Are you going to move?" He asks his voice tense. Liam crosses his arms over his chest and opens his mouth to speak but Peter cuts him off.

"No, he's not. Jason, you're welcome here as long as you want." Peter promises, before striding out of the kitchen and down the hallway, taking the blueprints with him.

"What do you think, Hannah, should I stay?" He asks, quietly rounding on me, his eyes soft once again but daring. I'm tempted to sneer, say it doesn't make a difference to me, but his eyes are pleading begging me to trust him.

"Yes," I answer honesstly. He smiles knowingly and I can't help but bristle, my ego protesting. "As long as you don't tick me off again, you'll do fine." I taunt before heading up the stairs, back to my room. I can almost sense him rolling his eyes at my back.

…

I slip out of my window, crouching on the porch overhang. I can see the lean muscled silhouette perched on the tiles but I continue out, even crossing closer to him, in front of the window, adjacent my bedroom.

"You know, normally I'd say that making out on the roof is a little cheesy, but for us I think it will work." Jason teases and I feel the blush burn my cheeks.

"Oh shut up before I push you off the edge." I roll my eyes, but slide a little closer to him, totally subconsciously, I promise. He glances at me and I can't help but blush some more. I wrap my arms around my knees and pull them closer. After a moment of sitting in shockingly, comfortable silence, I finally get the courage to ask what's been itching me since his earlier confession.

"What was it like?" I ask. He tilts his head and I can just make out his raised eyebrow. "Growing up" I clarify, studying him carefully. He smiles a little wistfully.

"It was great, everything at my fingertips, the game." He sighs, staring out at the lights across the city. That's why I love it here, the soaring skyline. He looks back at me and his smile disappears. "My dad kept us all in line, "honor among thieves" and all that jazz." He laughs sardonically. "He's doing hard time in France now, and my brother's in charge." He explains, not too perky at the prospect.

"Why is your brother so…?" I trail off; there is absolutely no way to say this nicely. Jason flinches at my words and I don't blame him for not answering.

"You know this is the first time we've ever spoken without you assaulting me." He reminds me, and I'd have to be an idiot to miss the subject change, but I let it go.

"Or you insulting me." I remind him and laugh. He grins, probably realizing how stupid he sounded earlier today.

"I'm sorry; all the girls I know are con artists or tech." He admits, his eyes shining in the dim lights. I know how entirely bizarre my career choice is, but it's very me.

"Not me." I remind him, my voice ringing out like I didn't know it could.

"So, I have to ask, how on earth did _you_ become the muscle?" He asks, and I raise an eyebrow.

"It's kind of personal," I mutter, looking down at my sneakers. He reaches up and tilts my chin up with his fingers.

"Fine then, ask one question, anything you want and I'll answer; then it's your turn to share." He proposes, I nod and he releases my chin. I wait for a second before coming up with my question.

"Why aren't you like your brother?" Jason tilts his head, the _ummm…_ obvious in his expression. "I mean why do you have such strong moral values?" I probe, leaning a little closer.

"No idea," He mutters before yanking me into his arms. His mouth finds mine and he teeters a little before bracing his hand on the tiles behind him. His arm wraps around my waist as his lips move with mine. The yummy pressure of his lips makes me nestle into him, until a car honks down at street level.

Everything comes crashing back to me, reminding who I am. Jason is completely unaware of my realization. He tightens his arm around me and carefully brushes his tongue across the seam of my lips. Finally reacting rationally, I reach back and yank his wrist off of my middle. I pull it around and wrench his wrist. I scramble out of his lap, still keeping him in the joint lock.

"Ow!" He protests, but he's intelligent enough to relax instead of fighting me. "What was that for?" Why I ought to…. I'm seriously considering shoving him off now, but a dead body might be a little suspicious.

"Jerk!" I growl before releasing him and hastily sliding back into my room through my window. I'm more furious with myself than him, sure he shouldn't have kissed me, but I should not have turned into a lovesick teenager when he did.

"What about the question?" He demands, crouching by window. I slam it down with a mighty crash, narrowly (and unfortunately) missing his fingers. He raps of on the glass with his knuckles before I pull the shade with a snap. "Oh come on!" I hear him complain, muffled by the glass. "Don't try to tell me that wasn't fun!" He orders, but I don't respond, instead I walk away, determined to shower all the filth of the day away.


	4. Stress Relief, Suggestions, and Smirks

Chapter Four

My foot collides with the bag and a mighty thump resonates around the room. The bag sails to the side before I come at it again with a back knuckle. Without hesitation, I hit the bag behind me with a sharp back kick; meeting the first with a roundhouse. Panting a little from exertion, I place my hands on my head and glance at the clock: 5 AM. Thankfully, Peter had the basement sound proofed, I remind myself as I turn my music even louder. This is so much better than yoga. It's always been my philosophy that martial arts has way better zen properties, anyway.

"I'm surprised Jason's picture isn't taped there." Someone announces from the stairs. I spin to see Peter standing there, leaning against the door frame. Wiping the sweat off my brow, I wonder how in God's name he knew I was here.

"Couldn't find one." I admit, starting back in on a form. Peter walks a little closer and leans into the bag, keeping it stable as I finish up with a hook kick. My foot hits with a lovely sound. If I could put that song on my I-pod and listen to it twenty for seven, I would. It's the beat that marks the countdown on a job and keeps me sane through my daily shenanigans.

"Why do you hate him so much?" He asks. I pause, still bouncing on my toes and keeping my hands on guard. I don't understand why Peter's asking, he owns the house, but usually he just takes in thieves without prying; letting them work out their issues on their own time. I guess since I've been here so long, he's decided its' okay to ask questions. I'm so taken back by his boldness, that I can't help the total and complete idiocy that I respond with.

"He hit on me." Which pretty much sums it up, but I still can't believe I said that to Peter of all people. I'm mortified by even the thought of it. Asking for romantic advice from Peter is my worst nightmare. Then again, he could be Liam… That might be a little awkward.

"And what's so awful about that?" Peter asks, and I can feel my jaw literally hit the floor. "I mean, why do hate the attention Hannah." I feel the blush creep all the way up my face. I run my hands through my hand through my hair and shake my head. This is very, very extremely wierd. _What's so bad about Jason hitting on me?_ **Do you want a list?!**

"I can't believe your saying this, especially after you decked that guy in Morocco for staring at my butt." I remind him and he smiles a little. He's always been like the eldest brother, forever and a day, holding our dysfunctional family together. I can't imagine it's a very fun job, but Peter's the reason we're all here, and he does his job well.

"True, you've always been like my little sister, and yeah I'm protective over you, but you can handle yourself pretty well, and I don't want you to like your life in this little bubble"Shaking my head,I'm sure he's gone crazy. Living in a bubble, what hogwash; I've propelled down the Empire Statebuilding, beaten up a palace guard in England, moved through a lazer grid to steal a Monet, if that's living in a bubble then I'm thrilled in my little bubble.

"I hate him because he's talked to me like I'm trash, not because he's giving me _that_ kind of attention." I assure him, returning to my form. I bow and open up, starting with an upward block, dodging an imaginary club. Sliding in to a cat stance and moving the imaginary arm into a break position, I take a deep breath.

"Okay then, be upstairs in a half an hour, we're moving onto the next round." Peter informs me, while making his way up the stairs.

…

I plop down into my seat at the kitchen table, my hair still damp from my shower. Liam grins at me from his spot beside me. Danny perches on the counter top, fidgeting with a stick of dynamite. Owen rests his laptop on the table as he sits at the foot. Peter arrives next taking his seat at the head of the table. James strolls in finding a spot and leaning against the door. After the plans all set James we'll probably go back to his million dollar boarding school. He'll found whatever we do, but he's not one for getting his hands dirty. Jason finally saunters downstairs, taking the seat across from. His foot brushes mine and he grins. I can't help the violent red blush that spreads across my face. I draw my foot back and kick his leg.

"Quit the footsie you two!" Peter reprimands, while spreading out a blueprint. "That was my leg." He teases, and winks at me. I blush some more and Liam smiles a little. Why does everybody think…? Ugh!

"So what are we stealing?" Jason asks, the only one unaware. Danny blinks at him before grinning.

"I forgot you were passed out cold at that point." Danny laughs, Liam gentle elbows me.

"I meant to say it yesterday, excellent punch." Liam teases me, and Jason blushes. I will admit, it felt fabulous to let out my frustrations yesterday and hit Jason. I'm even okay with the teasing from the rest of the gang.

"It's not her best skill either." Jason smirks and the room goes dead silent. We all know what he's referring to and I can feel myself take on the resemblance of a tomato. I remember precisely how I felt when he kissed my last night. My eyes widen and he just tilts his head and raises his eyebrows at me. No one would ever, ever make that kind of…. Liam stands up, slamming his hands on the dining room table. He looks like he's going to vault himself over the table and strangle Jason himself.

"Take it down a notch you two." Peter orders stoically. "And by the way, he's right" the crew gives him sharp looks of shock. "Her best skill is throwing knives." He reminds us. "You'd do well to remember that." We all know that comment was meant solely for Jason. He nods respectfully. What a farce; that boy doesn't have a respectful bone in his body.

"So what's the job?" Jason asks, thankfully changing the subject from my "skills". I wish I had missed that innuendo.

"Not what. Who." Peter corrects.

"Who?" Jason asks, glancing at me. I grin at him. Only my favorite person on the planet, and the main reason I became a thief. I was six years old, staring at a painting, and I decided I wanted it; the mean old man who lived here didn't deserve it anyway. So, I picked it up off the mansions wall and sprinted out the door; tripping a few guards in the proccess

"Picasso." I announce, raising an eyebrow and smirking. Jason's face lights up like a kid on Christmas morning.


	5. Perfect Marks, Planes and Problems

Chapter Five

"Who's the mark?" Jason asks with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. Nerves immediately build in my stomach, that look has brought me plenty of trouble lately. His eyes travel away from Peter and land on me, before the smirk spreads across his face. I can only guess the twisted little things that are going through his mind now.

"Eighteen year-old trust fund baby" Peter grins. "The _perfect_ mark" Jason nods, before turning to Owen, his expression regaining composure. It's extremely strange watching the change from super attractive and he knows it smirk, to focused and determined, still attractive, but serious guy.

"Security?" He asks, tilting his head. Owen scoops up the sheet from the counter and lays it on the kitchen table. All the crisscrossing lines don't paint a pretty picture. I could take down the guards ridiculously easy, it's the rest that would be a problem. Danny could attempt to shut down the most of the security measures, but for a trust fund baby the security is ridiculously high-tech.

"Laser grid around the painting here, guards here and here, motion sensitive cameras, here, here and here." He taps the illustrations on the diagram, and Jason's frown depends. I can't help but agree with his irritation, it's only a _little_ Picasso, is all the annoying security really necessary.

"Let me guess the frame's electric isn't it?" He asks, his eyebrows crunching together, it's kind of cute. Nope, I didn't just think that, no way. Owen nods, and Danny strolls over to stand behind me, peering over my shoulder. I, kind of, miss the days when I was taller than all the guys, except Peter; Peter's always been taller than me.

"This is going get fun." Jason sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. I grin a little and Liam laughs, jovially. I turn to him, surprised at his reaction. Sure, I love a challenge, everyone knows that, but what about it is so humorous.

"I love that crazy look in your eyes." He teases, grinning at me. I bite my lip as I feel the blush burning on my cheek bones. He definitely doesn't realize how couple-like that sounds. Sure we're comfortable with each other but we're not _that_ comfortable.

…

Crossing my fuzzy, sweat pant clad legs; I lean back on the plane seat. This is paradise. Jason whistles as he steps on board: his eyebrows raised with appreciation. I know that the Harris's are rich but I'm sure they don't spend it on little niceties like private jets.

"I know what _I _want for Christmas." He jokes, dropping into a seat on the other side of the passenger compartment. I completely understand the feeling. Growing up with Jason's life would be fun, but I think I'd pick James's life. Ever since he turned eighteen, he's been traveling the world; free to spend his money on what-ever he wants. Some guys would go to college; James chose to fund an international art-theft ring.

Peter, Owen, Liam and Danny file in next. Immediately taking the seat next to me, Liam can't keep the grin off his face. His head lulls on my shoulder, grinning before closing his eyes.

"You don't care if I take a nap, do you?" He asks. My eyes widen a little; I wouldn't consider myself the best pillow substitute. Apparently, the question was rhetorical, because Liam's asleep almost instantly. The rest of the gang finds ways to occupy themselves. Some listen to music, some read, and Peter closes his eyes, but I swear he's plotting out the con because his fingers don't stop tracing diagrams on the seats' arms. After a while, Liam's head rolls off my shoulder and he cozies up into a ball on the seat.

Owen's totally immersed in his laptop and I swear to god that Danny's setting and disabling a bomb while listening to music. Jason, however, is idly flipping through a magazine. After a while, he sets it down and lifts his head to study me.

"I have to ask, what's the game plan here?" He should ask Peter, but I know the question's for me. Something about the glimmer of mischief in his eyes has me off-balance as I answer.

"James has a vacation home in L.A.; we're setting up a base there." I explain, and eye my I-pod sitting on the table beside me. What I wouldn't give to pop in my headphones and tune out the world for a little while.

"Not that, I mean this is obviously not a smash and grab, so I have to wonder what's our way in?" Jason tilts his head, a little frown on his face. I realize I don't even know what the game plan is; I glance at Peter, who's still immersed in his own little world. I glance away. "Will Liam con his way in or, what?"

"I don't know, maybe, though I'm pretty sure the target's a dude." I gasp, realization hitting me with a strike of lighting. I'd be surprised if a light bulb didn't appear over my head. How do you con a spoil eighteen year old guy? "Peter…" I trail off, my voice on the edge of screaming, the tension clear. His head perks up, and by the look of his wide eyes, you'd think that I was his mother and he was a little boy in deep, deep trouble.

"You weren't planning on having _me_, con the eighteen year old, spoiled rotten pig. We're you?" I demand; my eyes narrowed into slits. Peter just blinks, and I know I've caught him. I can literally see the thoughts flashing through his eyes, trying to find a good excuse for throwing me into the snake pit.

"WHAT ON EARTH GIVES YOU THE RIGHT TO JUST ASSUME THAT I'LL PLAY WHATEVER GAME YOU FEEL LIKE?!" I shriek, flying to my feet and launching at Peter. The rest of my vision fades to blood-red streaks. He raises his hands beside his face, knowing I can kill him in over forty different ways. Stalking forward; my upper lip curls in a feral snarl, before Liam's hand drags me back.

Attempting to pin my arms to my sides, he earns a few fingernail scratches and bruises. Slamming my heel into the arch of his foot, he finally steps back and crosses his arms over his chest. I cross my arms over my own chest, glaring up at him with renewed fury. Neither of us speak a word during a silent stare down. Liam and Peter don't get to order me around, no one does.

"Wait a minute, what's so awful about Hannah conning a moron out of his Picasso?" Jason asks his eyes on Liam. Liam shrugs, not knowing how to explain it. Simultaneously, everyone in our little group seems to look up at the ceiling to avoid answering Jason's question. His eyes catch mine and he raises an eyebrow. Feeling my face turning red, I stare down at my sneakers. This is _so_ awkward.


	6. Heels, Humiliation, and Headaches

Chapter 6

Wobbling in my heels a little, I stroll across the room. Of all the humiliating things I have done in my life this is in top ten, maybe even higher than when I accidentally knocked out the guy behind me at Starbucks when he slipped and his hand landed on my elbow. My dress is ridiculously impractical; a tight little black number than reveals far too much skin for my liking and heels that are even worse. I can barely walk in these shoes and running is out of the question. Not to mention if I even tried to throw a roundhouse kick, not only would I probably flash my underwear to half the room, I'd also wind up on my butt.

"Seriously, when did Hannah get hot?" Someone asks, and it sounds distinctly like Danny. "OW! What was that for Liam?" He demands. I can't help but roll my eyes, at his comments and idiocy. It's just like Liam to defend me, even though I can do it perfectly well myself.

"She can hear you through the ear piece, moron." That sounds a lot like Jason. "And the minute she gets back she's going to remind you why she doesn't usually wear dresses." I can't help the smirk on my face. The bass from the massive stereo, blasts through the mansion. In every nook and cranny, there's another scantily clad teenager. I never realized coming to one of these parties involved so many people sliding up against me, and not being able to put any of them in joint locks. Liam's voice is constantly in my ear, urging me to stay cool, and to not lose my temper what-ever-happens. Someone's hand lands on my butt, and I instantly turn. The culprit has disappeared among the crowd, but it doesn't stop me from glaring at random strangers.

"I hate you Peter." I remind him, my voice terse. I hate, hate, hate, and hate this: there's a reason I'm not the inside man within the group. Not to mention, there's a reason I'm not an average teenager, not even during a con.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah; you want me to have someone else do it?" He asks. Of all the points he could have made, this is probably the most effective, I will not be replaced.

"No!" I snarl. Some heads turn to gawk at me, the crazy girl talking to herself. A few guys' eyes travel over me, lingering on my exposed legs. I'm itching to put on a sweater and possibly some jeans. I seriously hate this.

"I found the mark, Hannah; he's in the kitchen, by the fridge." Jason informs me through the coms. Searching the room, I find the entrance into the kitchen, of course, there's twenty teenagers wedged into that space too. Sliding through, while hiking up my dress, I finally find the mark. Harry Franks, Nineteen years old, worth three billion dollars, and serially single, is absolutely the perfect mark; if you're a female inside con artist who knows what she's doing. Unfortunately, I don't have a clue.

"Okay, Hannah, now just take it slow." Liam orders. I can hear Jason scoffing.

"I'm sure she knows what she's doing." Jason reminds us, of all the people to put their faith in me, why does is it Jason? No one explains how completely and entirely wrong he is.

"Shut up Jason." Peter commands; his voice tense. What a fabulous show of confidence Peter, truly, thanks so much. As I stumble in my heels a little, I make my way over to the counter where Franks is standing.

"Hey" I smile, in what I hope is a friendly way. Franks glances around for a minute before he realizes I'm here, right in front of him.

"Oh hey" He grins before shoving a spoon into my hands. I freeze, as he adjusts it so he can peer into the reflection. For some reason, I stay frozen, having lost the ability to speak at all. The coms unit in my ear is dead silent; no one, not even Jason has the guts to speak.

"Hold this." He mutters, picking at his teeth, and raising his eyebrows. "Thanks," He smiles at me, before sauntering off, leaving me there, holding up a spoon like an idiot. I can almost feel the five jaws dropping. Finally regaining the ability to speak, I growl into the coms.

"No one say a word." I snarl, before storming out of the kitchen and into the crowd of partygoers. Striding up to Franks, amid the dance floor with some girl, I tap his shoulder. He turns slowly, and he doesn't seem to recognize me. I wouldn't be surprised, what with the smoke curling out of my ears. Grabbing the back of the morons head I crush my lips to his. He wraps his arms around my middle, kissing me roughly. Moments later, I step back; turn on my heel, and stride away, wiping off the kiss with the back of my hand as I go. When I round the corner, Liam's waiting outside the car, a grin on his face.

"Good job keeping your cool." He mutters, opening the door for me. I slide into the van and shrug. There's a very, very good reason Liam has his job and I have mine. Calm, cool, and suave has always been his thing, not mine.

"I've never been very good at that, have I?" I remind him. He rolls his eyes at me hopelessly. If anyones used to my temperament it's Liam, we've been friends since the minute I met Peter and found my new home. When we were ten, and he snatched my ice-cream, he wound up pinned on the ground, with a black eye. I've gotten a _little_ better at controlling my temper.

"I'm just glad you didn't beat up the poor guy." Danny laughs. I raise an eyebrow and smirk. Jason slides into the car beside me, pressing his leg up against mine. I cross my ankles and fold my hands in my lap, silently edging away from him, closer to Liam.

"He's not exactly poor is he is?" Jason points out, laughing. I glance out across the acres and acres of manicured lawns and the long winding driveway. The yard's probably maintained by gardeners that get paid millions, but my mind is centered on the basement. Where the intricate cubism of Pablo Picasso sits, behind reinforced steel walls, electronic locks, and guards armed to the teeth.

"Please, wait till you see James's vacation home." Danny chuckles from the front seat. I can see Peter's grin from here. If Jason's impressed by this monstrosity, I can't wait till he sees the sweeping columns and gorgeous arches in James's beach front mansion.

…

"I can't decide if that was a complete and total failure; or the most epic recon mission ever." Danny laughs, as I walk up the stairs. I spin and glare down at him.

"You wanted me to get his attention, I got his attention." I remind them, jutting my chin out, and putting my hands on my hips. Danny holds his hands up in surrender and Peter laughs from across the foyer.

"We didn't exactly mean for you to do _that_." Peter explains; a little grimace on his face; I'm not used to being the loose cannon of the group, Liam's always held that title. I'm not sure that I like the change, I want everyone to trust me.

The spotlight is immediately removed from me when Jason steps into the foyer. I watch as he gawks at the glass dome ceiling and the white marble columns. While the Frank's mansion is tacky, James's is elegant and refined. Liam laughs at James's expression of awe. Peter half smiles, and the dark circles under his eyes seem to fade somewhat.

"We'll meet in the morning, have fun you guys." He instructs; heading down the hallway to the room he usually deems his. On the curving staircase, I peer down at the guys. Owen has his laptop out once again, and he makes his way into the den. Danny strolls into the game room and Liam meanders into the kitchen, probably to ask for a ridiculously oversized meal from the way too-perky servants.

"So… What room should I take?" Jason call up to me, and I gaze down at him, heels in hand. I sigh under my breath. Here we go again…

"Let me show you." I sigh, calling down to him and slowly starting up the stairs. Already feeling the inevitable headache, I rub my temples, as I hear Jason's footsteps on the wooden staircase.


	7. Tricks, Trepidation, and Temptation

Chapter Seven

Jason inches behind me all the way up the stairs and down the hallway. I find the intricately carved door, with vines patterned into the wood. Tapping my fingernails on the solid oak, I hear the solid thump of a sound proofed door. Quickly turning the doorknob, I spin back to Jason. He hasn't moved, he's still standing there hands in his back pockets, with his head tilted slightly, studying me. Playing on his lips is a small smile: lips that I've kissed, lips that I've enjoyed kissing. Realizing how strange I must look: standing there staring at him, I blush. Looking down at my bare feet on the plush carpet, I turn without a word and take off down the hallway.

"Hannah?" He asks; his voice surprisingly melodious. I spin back to him, more surprised than anything. He doesn't seem cocky or arrogant, or even flirtatious. He just seems normal. Normal is extremely wierd.

"Yeah" I respond, a little hesitant, my voice warbling. There's tension in the air as I roll my toes in the carpet, feeling the silken fibers. I blink, trying to find out what's really happening.

"I think you should know: I honestly tried to back you up tonight." He half smiles; a little regretful. It's uncanny thinking that Jason, of all people, has regrets and feels guilt. I guess with all the bravado, I miss the genuine Jason.

"Yeah I know." I reassure him, Jason acts like a lot of things, but I knew I could trust him once the job started. Don't ask me how I know, but I do. Maybe it's what I know about his upbringing, but I know that Jason wouldn't cross that line and screw up the job. With a pleasant smile, I turn back, and start to make my way down the long hallway to my room.

"Wait, Hannah!" He calls, meeting me in a few strides. I blink, turning around to meet him. His sneakers skid to a stop inches short of my bare toes. My eyes are level with his chin and I tilt my head back to look up at him. He takes a little step forward and I step back, he steps forward, and I step back, over and over, till I'm flush against the wall. He braces his hand next to my face and leans a bit closer. I brace my hands on the intricately carved door, my nails biting into the wood. I swallow, trying to get my heart to move out of my throat and back into my chest, where it belongs.

"Really Hannah, I know I haven't exactly acted like the most… trustworthy person, but you should know: you can always trust me." He promises, making my heart do funny little somersaults in my chest. I raise an eyebrow at him, the fact that I'm skeptical clear. He leans a bit closer to me in response, his minty breath gently brushing my face. "I mean it; I really am a good guy." I can practically feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins, triggering my fight or flight reflex.

"Yeah, I'm sure." I can't help the sarcastic tone that creeps into my voice. Sliding out from under him, I practically sprint down the hallway. When I finally look up from my feet, where I've been staring to avoid looking at Jason, I spot Liam standing at the end of the hallway, in clear view of Jason's door. Of all the rotten tricks…Liam swallows, and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Peter wants to talk to you." His voice is hard and cold as he speaks to me. He never talks to me like this. I flinch and bite my lip. He's been like my brother since the day I arrived I know that a lot of things have changed since we were little, but I don't see why that has to change.

"I thought he said we'd talk in the morning." Liam pinches the bridge of his nose, a sure sign that he's stressed. He shakes his head at my comment.

"Not all of us, just you." He clarifies, before brushing past me and ambling down the hallway and around the corner, towards his room. If I ever had any doubts about the meaning of the phrase "cold shoulder" they're gone now. I glance over my shoulder towards Jason's room, which is firmly shut. The little toad stool. I bite my lip and scramble down the stairs, heading for the study.

…

He's waiting for me, a disappointed expression on his face. Peter sighs when I close the door to his study behind me.

"Oh Hannah" He rubs his temples with his fingers. "Do I need to change the plan or can I rely on you?" He demands and I flinch, his words hurting more than a slap. I swallow, my stomach sinking.

"I'm sorry about tonight." Pathetically, my voice cracks. I haven't been lectured like this since I was little. Sure, I've heard him list off the same complaints to Liam when he pulled some stunt, but he never, ever has had to say this to me.

"I don't need an apology from you I need a change." I nod; a little ashamed. I let my frustration at being ignored get the better of me tonight. I suppose it was a disaster waiting to happen, 'little Hannah, breaking out of her shell". That's what James would say anyway. I've always been the rock, the stable one, in the group. Peter was the one that kept us together, but I could always be relied on to keep a cool head in any situation. _I_ don't even know what's happening. Glancing up at Peter, I see his eyes soften slightly. His fidgeting hand stills on his desk and he frowns thoughtfully.

"If you want… I could have Liam give you a hand, a few tips…." He trails off, noticing my mortified expression. Having Liam teach me how to flirt would be torture, oh lord heavenly father help me please, I cannot think of a more embarrassing pastime. I don't care if he's a professional con artist; he's also my surrogate brother. I wouldn't even know how to phrase it.

"No it's fine: I'll just figure it out on my own." I mumble, edging towards the door. I don't think I've ever felt my face turn this bright red. Peter swallows and drums his fingers on his desk, torn between letting the awkward conversation end and his duty to make sure the job gets done. He nods silently before shuffling some papers, letting me know that I've been dismissed. Blushing, and staring at my bare feet, I pad outside of the study and dash into the hallway.

Really, when you think about it, I'm a very stupid genius. Proving my point perfectly, I collide with Jason, sending us both stumbling backwards. Gaining my balance quickly, I glare at him. He doesn't seem fazed in the slightest, instead he just slides his hand into the back pockets of his jeans and rocks back on his heels. I cross my arms over my chest, shoving down the anxiety and humiliation I'm feeling. Jason doesn't get to see me like this.

"He read you the riot act, didn't he?" Jason guesses, smiling sympathetically just a bit. It must take such an effort for him to keep from smirking. I know I'm angry because of my mistake: but Jason's just such a lovely outlet for frustration.

"What do you think?" I sneer; I'd so much rather be angry at Jason than breakdown in tears. Jason gives up and finally smirks, stepping forward with those extremely long legs of his. I scramble away, my back colliding with the wall beside the door to Peter's study.

"I think" He starts, before leaning closer to me. "That he just told you that you're out of control, and you need to fix it." He prods, before bracing his hand next to my side, so he can lean in even closer. "Then he suggested that you go to Liam for help flirting with Franks." I really hate how good he is at guessing. "And now you're humiliated, and are wondering how're you're going to learn something it takes normal girl years to perfect, in a single night."

I bite my lip, despite his flirty demeanor; his words are cutting me to the core. I blink, stunned and unable to come up with a scathing retort. "So I'm here to offer my services." He smirks and I finally regain my senses. Raising my foot, to slam it into his, I hesitate, knowing Peter would be livid if I injured a member of the team the night before a job. Realizing an alternate route, I decide to take his advice, hell it's less weird than flirting with Liam for practice.

Reaching up, as he's a few inches taller than me, I fiddle with his shirt collar and tilt my head, staring into his lovely rich brown eyes. Rising on my tip toes, I lean in like I'm going to kiss him, before moving clumsily to the side and whispering in his ear.

"And what services would that be?" I murmur, I feel stupid but I can see the blush on his face. I don't have a clue what I'm doing but Jason doesn't seem to notice. It's fun being the one in control for a change. Hmm maybe this temptress thing isn't as difficult as it seems. It's only when Jason's hot hand lands on my neck that I realize the flaw in my plan: hormones and the y chromosome.


	8. Lessons, Leaving, and Lazy Mornings

**_Chapter 8_**

"See, I don't need your help." I point out, desperate. The last thing I need is Jason messing with my head. Blinking and making his hair fall into his eyes, he frowns. Carefully leaning in, he brushes a tiny kiss across my lips, his soft lips barely touch mine before they're gone again. He pulls back immediately and pushes off from the wall, flying backwards. I'm left breathless, with my head spinning. How does he always manage to do that?

"I never questioned your ability to…" he swallows loudly and runs his hands through his untidy hair. Despite his usual calm, he seems deranged."Mess with people physically. I challenged your acting skills. You're not the most eloquent person I've ever met." He amends. I feel a blush burning on my cheeks again. How does he always manage to do that? Why is it that he's always able to make me embarrassed?

"So I'm verbally incompetent, is that what you're saying?" I demand crossing my arms over my chest, anger a comfortable emotion. He rolls his eyes, before putting his hand on the small of my back and guiding me down the hallway, I feel my back arch under his hand, trying to dislodge the uncomfortable sensation.

"Come on, we can talk more in my room." He suggests, placing his hand on the small of my back, I shake him off and glare, stalking up the stairs towards his door. I can practically feel him rolling his eyes at the back of his head. One the spiral stair case, I pause and peer down at him over my shoulder.

"Don't order me around." I remind him, before sashaying towards his door, leaving it open behind me. I can easily imagine him rolling his eyes at my antics. Sure, it's stupid, but it's a matter of pride, I don't do damsel in distress.

…

"No way" I shake my head, repulsed and more than a little mortified: a wave of nausea in my stomach. He rolls his eyes. "I swear to god if you tell anyone 'bout this…" I warn, my eyes narrowing angrily. He smirks, then grins devilishly, I swear I'm going to grow to hate that pretty quickly.

"I promise I won't tell Liam that you've spent," He glances down at his watch. "The last hour and a half practicing hitting on me." I blush, shaking my head. He sighs and rubs his tired eyes. "Just say it already." I choose to ignore the Liam comment. Even though that comment in itself would be humiliating. Then the question would arise of why I went to Jason instead of Liam; which would go so wrong so quickly. I can't exactly explain to Liam that I'd feel even more uncomfortable hitting on him: not because there's that kind of tension or anything, just because Liam's way too much like a brother to me.

"Hey sexy," I choke back a gag when he grins. "Have I met you before?" I wonder, twirling my hair like a ditz. He smirks, and I get the feeling he's been in this situation many times before. That's a slightly disgusting revelation. I wonder how any girl can say this crap with a straight face. Why can't I talk like a normal person?

"Maybe," He tilts his head and bluntly checks me out, raking his eyes over me. I shake my head, disgusted and slightly violated. Jason lounges back on his hands, relaxing on his bed, while I opt to stand, not comfortable enough to stay still.

"Oh come on, can I hit you now, please!" I beg, clasping my hands together in front of me, and dropping to my knees, sarcastically. He rolls his eyes, thinking I'm joking: the fool. It would feel so lovely if I could just punch him in the face, or kick him in the groin, really, I don't have a preference.

"I think from the spoon incident, we can agree that Franks is a pig… and you can't keep your temper, so you need to practice that." He reminds me, seriously. I roll my eyes.

"That doesn't change the fact that _you_ are not allowed to blatantly check me out." I protest, indignant. Despite my clear anger, he grins, and there's a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"Oh, I don't agree; I should definitely be allowed to enjoy the view." He taunts his eyes lighting up as he does it again, looking my over from my toes to my face, while I'm still standing here in this absurd dress, which is much too clinging for my liking.

"And what on earth would give you that impression?" I demand, crossing my arms over my chest and jutting out my hip. My eyes are hard and steely, just daring him to come up with a smart-Alec response. I should've known better at this point. In moments he's on his feet, with one arm wrapped around my waist and the other cradling the back of my neck. He tilts his head and leans in, leaving on millimeters between my lips and his. Just before he can kiss me, he turns his head, just planting a tiny kiss on my cheek. While I'm gaping at him, still amazed that he didn't take the opportunity for all it's worth, he flops back down on his bed, still grinning at me.

"Because I can do _that_ with finding various bruises on my body in the morning" He reminds me, grinning like the Cheshire cat. I seriously consider him attacking him till he's reduced to spot on the cement, before I come up with a better solution. I silently slide on to his bed before crawling over till I'm on all fours above him. His eyes widen astronomically, obviously shocked by my actions.

"You know, I kind of like arrogance in a guy, it's an attractive feature." I murmur; my voice low. I'm trying to remember all the things he mentioned earlier, when I find him smirking. He gently pushes me off of him, shaking his hair and practically roaring with laughter. "What's so funny?" I demand, spinning around and rolling off the bed (wow that doesn't sound awkward at all.)

"_That_ was." He laughs and I feel the blush burn on my cheeks. If that had worked, I would've been fine, but now I'm mortified. He's laughing, laughing at me; I look down at my feet. Humiliated for the third time today, that must be a record.

"Whatever," I mumble under my breath before stepping around him and heading for the door. Whipping the door open, I step into the hallway just wanting to get the hell out of here. Just as I'm heading to my room, wishing I could disappear, I feel a hand on my arm. Turning, I look up at Jason's who's definitely sobered up. His expression is soft and his eyes filled with pity.

"I'm sorry that came out wrong, I swear I wasn't making fun of you." He promises, but I just shake my head blinking away the tears welling up in my eyes. Stupid, stupid, emotional teenage girl reflexes.

"Yeah I know." I assure him, though I don't have a clue what he's talking about. He probably just pities me. He blinks and shakes his head, obviously seeing right through my nonchalance.

"No, I don't think you do, I found it funny because of how ridiculous it was." He explains, but only makes me raise my eyebrows.

"Thanks," I scoff, a little hurt, so I'm ridiculous now, am I? He really is digging his own grave.

"I mean that you thought that would work on me." He continues, "Hannah, You don't have to put on some bimbo act to mess with me, you do that just fine on a normal basis." His voice is just slightly teasing. It takes me a moment to pick up on what might just be a complement in the mix of that bungled statement. Before I can respond, he let's go of me and with a wink, disappears back into his room. I stand, waiting for a minute in the hallway, a little dazed.

…

Rubbing the sleep out of my tired eyes, I yawn and stretch, still padding around in sweat pants and a tank top. Slowly making my way down the steps, I run my fingers through my hair, smoothing down the frizzies. After quickly freshening up in the bathroom, I left my room and headed down for breakfast. Liesurely stopping in the kitchen, I have one of the half-dozen personal chefs James keeps on hand make my egg white omelet, before meandering into the living room and plopping down on the sectional with my plate in my lap. Liam grins around his bite of bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich and waves. I chuckle and grab the remote. Turning on the reruns of last night's hockey game, I cross my legs and snuggle into the plush cushion.

"You know all that bacon's going to kill you one of these days." I remind him (okay nag).

"I doubt it" He shrugs then grins at me playfully. "You'll kill me before then." He predicts, laughing. I chuck a pillow at him and he dodges it before holding his hands up in surrender. I continue munching on my breakfast for a while, as we watch the game together: complaining about the awful plays and leaping to our feet to cheer on the scorers. Finally collapsing back onto the couch, I lay my head on his shoulder and close my eyes thinking that life is definitely good.


	9. Wonder, Warmth, and Wipeouts

Chapter Nine

**_Jason _**

I pause outside Hannah's half open door, wondering if I should knock. Slowly pushing the door open, I peak my head in. The sight in front of me is more than slightly surprising. The room looks positively immaculate; there isn't a single thing out-of-place. I kind of want to look around for evidence of communication to the mother ship. That is, if I didn't have a bone crushing fear of the room's occupant, I'd want to snoop. Taking another quick look, I assure myself that the room is empty before heading down the stairs; I pass through the kitchen, into the living room, after the sound of TV. When I step into the ridiculously high-tech room, I stop gaping at the couple on the couch. That's the whole issue, how incredibly coupe-like they are. Her head is one his shoulder and his arm is around her shoulders. Laughter rings out around the room, her genuine, giddy laugh that I never seem to be able to receive. I blink a few times before starting to step out of the room. Unfortunately, I don't take into to account the squeaking floor boards.

Hannah tenses her ponytail whipping around as she looks over her shoulder, a blush burning across her cheek bones. Liam turns much slower, not looking half as scandalized as Hannah does. I swallow, a little anxious. Sure I've been in some sticky situations before, there was this one time when my and my cousin, Nick, were posing as monks in a cathedral…. But this is definitely one of the most awkward situations I've been in. It's not every day you go looking to offer your mark services to a girl and find her with her with a guy who's equal as likely to beat you up as she is. I swallow before awkwardly waving like a dork.

"Hey."

…

**Hannah**

"Did you hack Frank's I-phone yet?" Peter asks Owen as he taps away on his laptop. He nods idly and shakes his head at the same time until Liam beams a crumpled up wad of paper off his head. Laughter erupts from the group as he snaps up. He blinks sleepily, despite the fact that it's almost noon.

"Yeah, um…" After tapping a few keys on his keyboard, a chart pops up on the project. The blank white wall fills with windows and windows of info. Emails make their way through the screen before the image finally settles on an agenda. "He has a meeting with his father at ten, and then lunch with someone named Kyle, and then he has a wardrobe appointment before he goes to a PR consultation." He rolls his eyes.

"So pretty much he's out of the house for hours on end." Danny concludes; a grin on his face. "We already know the in and outs of the security systems, so are we hitting it today?" He asks, always one for the smash and grab technique. Stealing a glance at Peter, I catch him shaking his head.

"No, we're going to hit it…." He strolls up to the projector and points at this coming Friday. "Then" Looking more carefully, I read the event he's gesturing towards. _Birthday Party_. "He will be the busiest billionaire of the night." He reminds us, and I smile a tiny bit, relaxing. "And Hannah's going to keep him that way." I feel the color drain from my face.

…

The warmth seeps through my cup of coffee in my hand. Biting at my cheeks and the tip of my nose the wind reddens my face. I take an uneasy sip, hoping the warm drink will ease the unrest in my stomach. Danny and Owens' voices are in my ear, giving instructions, and I'm ignoring them for the most part. I tend to ignore them anyways. Jason, of all people is silent, and strangely I'm waiting on edge for his comments. Last night, he was actually pretty helpful, he still managed to insult and hit on me at the same time, but he was helpful. I flick my eyes over to the debonair young man lounging at a tiny bistro. I watch as he turns his collar up against the cold wind. Rolling my shoulders back, as if I'm preparing for a blow, I saunter across the cobblestone street.

"What is this place, a Paris rip-off?" I demand my voice low. I hear Liam laugh under his breath.

"Let it go, Hannah, you'll get there eventually." Liam reminds me, laughing a little.

"What?" Jason demands, clearly not enjoying being out of the loop as I stroll down the sidewalk. He should probably get used to it if he's suddenly going to go mute on me.

"She's never been to Paris, still pretty bitter about it." Owen fills him in. I glare up at the hotel room where Owen has been running surveillance. Through the thin white curtains, I'm pretty sure I spot a shadowy figure flinch.

"Wait a minute, you've been a thief all your life and you've never been to Paris?" Jason demands. I know what he means, Paris is the Taj Mahal for an art thief, all the artwork... (sigh). I can feel my mouth-watering at the thought.

"Uh, huh, the one job we ever did there, she got mono." Danny laughs and I send my "would you like to keep that arm?" glare towards the convenience store he's staking out.

"Is anyone going to answer my question?" I wonder, sipping at my coffee, the bitter taste satisfying the craving.

"No, the main revenue's tourism, so they had this whole cleanliness and old-time charm project a few years ago." Owen responds, and I can hear the faint rattle of his finger on a keyboard. I prance towards the café, almost turning out of my kitten heels; I mutter a curse under my breath and Peter huffs.

"Language," He mutters and I roll my eyes, knowing not to take him seriously since I had to listen to him the last time the Pats lost to the Giants during the Super Bowl.

Finally arriving at the café, I turn into the fenced in patio, and with an inward grimace, my foot catches in the twined metal, sending me pitching forward. My coffee cup lurches forward, spilling all over my front; luckily, it's not too hot at this point. I splutter and slowly unhook my foot, leveraging myself up off the cement. I straighten my clothes, frantically blushing as I hear Liam laughing nonstop in my ear. When I look up the guy is crouching beside me a concerned expression on his face.

Harrison Leonard has been friends with Franks since the two were in school together at Yaxley Prep; they got expelled together, actually. Now, Harrison works for the branch of the company that Franks manages for his father. Harrison has cropped light brown hair, and dull brown eyes. He's not as attractive as Jason, Liam or even Frank's but I highly doubt he's lacking any confidence.

"Are you okay?" He wonders, as I sit up and glance down at my coffee soaked white blouse.

"I'm fine," I assure him, then sigh, "just a little embarrassed." I feel a blush burning on my cheeks. He glances down at my shirt before taking of his sweatshirt and offering it to me. I smile and shrug it on.

"Here," He murmurs helpfully, he's smiling good-naturedly as I pull my hair out of the hood. Breathing I smell the thick Parisian cologne.

"Thank you, it means a lot, but how will I get it back to you?" I wonder, tilting my head and biting my lip.

"Know what? I'm going out-of-town for a few days, so how about, you bring it back to me at a party Friday?" He offers a gleam of an idea in his eyes. I purse my lips pretending to think about it for a moment. After a moment, I smile at him, flutter my eyelashes a little.

"Sure, what's the address?" I ask, handing him my phone. He types in the details, along with his number and smiles pleasantly at me.

"See you then." He grins, getting to his feet and helping me up, still grinning, he starts to walk away. Suddenly, he turns and grins at me, "Oh and make sure to tell the security you're with Harrison Leonard." He suggests, pointing to himself, I laugh and smile with a nod. When he walks off, my com fills with static silence.

"Did she just…" Danny trails off unable to find the words.

"Completely ensnare that guy …" Owen continues then stops, bewildered.

"By wiping out" Jason finishes, and I can hear the proud smirk in his tone. I can't help the giddy grin that spreads across my face as I brush myself off and start to head home.


	10. Strains, Shrugs, and Stories

**_Chapter Ten_**

"Crap, Crap, Crap!" I shout, holding my wrist with my hand. "Oh ****!" I jump up and down, still holding my wrist. Stretching my arms above my head, I pray, to whatever god I feel like, that the sharp pang in my wrist was just my imagination.

"You okay?" Jason wonders, as he descends the stair case. Biting my lip, I force a smile, not one to enjoy showing weaknesses.

"Yeah sure" I lie weakly. Jason shakes his head and steps closer to me, carefully examining my expression. He reaches forward and gently tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

"What's wrong with your wrist?" He asks, gently removing my other hand, and holding it up for inspection. His caring demeanor and how he hasn't hit on me once in thirty seconds is setting me on edge as his fingers rest on my bare skin.

"Nothing!" I snap, yanking my wrist out of his grip. Unfortunately, my wrist chooses that moment to protest. Sharp pains prick down my arm and I can't help but bring my wrist to my chest. "****" I curse, jumping up and down. Jason's eyebrows jump to the top of his head, nearly disappearing in his hair.

"Never thought I'd hear that come out of your mouth," He mutters under his breath, "Will you let me look?" He asks, tapping down my pride I nod and hold my wrist out. Carefully pressing around the bone, his face stays somber. "Doesn't feel like anything serious, it's probably just a sprain." He predicts, I shrug and nod, before turning back to the bag and slamming it with a roundhouse. "You're going to keep training?" He asks, leaning against the treadmill.

"Just legs, I'm not stupid." I defend myself, before throwing a spinning back kick. I glance over my shoulder and catch him stretching.

"You do this every day?" He asks, and I find myself staring at his face. There's something missing from his expression and it takes me a moment to realize it. He's not grinning or smirking and there's no trace of arrogance on his demeanor. Finally realizing he spoke, I blink and turn back to the bag.

"Pretty much," I reply. It takes a ridiculous amount of effort to stay in shape. Unfortunately I wasn't born with a rapid metabolism and can't afford to be lazy, like some people cough-Liam-cough. The boy is never, ever in the gym, and yet I've seen him during this job in Miami, and the guy is still infuriatingly fit.

Rolling my shoulders back, I watch as Jason lies down in on the bench pressing table and starts lifting. Sprinting over there, I bring the weights back into their holder and glare at him.

"Are you really that stupid, don't you know that you should never lift without a spotter?" I remind him. He nods his head, his hair falling in his eyes.

"Fine then, spot me." He orders, before lifting the weights once again. I roll my eyes, but rest my hands under the bar, watching him lift carefully. After about thirty reps, he places the bar back in the holder and sits up. "Do you ever wish you were normal?" He wonders and I just blink at him, not understanding the question "I mean, do you ever wish you weren't a thief?" He asks, tilting his head and watching my face. I tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear and look down at my feet, trying to put all my emotions into words.

"Sometimes I do. When I was younger I was normal." I admit. Something changes in Jason's eyes as he blinks at me, and shakes his head, like he's having a hard time processing that information. Which I understand, I can't imagine Jason was ever told he could be something other than a thief.

"I just can't picture it, you going to a regular school… weird." He explains shaking his head, I smile, amused by the expression on his face, as if he's starring by some complex equation. I laugh and sit down beside him, not at all uncomfortable, I guess I'm still not sure if I particularly like him, but I don't hate his guts, that much, anymore, at least.

"Even when I was doing normal stuff, I was really little, my older sister died…." I trail off, anxious to look at him. I never thought I'd be saying this. I promised myself I wouldn't say any of this to him; that he wasn't worth hearing my story. Only the guys know all this and maybe I shouldn't tell him, but for some inexplicable reason, I want to tell him. Jason stays quiet, thankfully refraining from those pathetic "I'm sorry's"; he silently takes my hand in his, gently squeezing to let me know he's here for support. I take a shaky breath, knowing I should get it all off my chest at once. "It was a mugging gone wrong; they attacked her for the twenty in her wallet." I suck in a breath, feeling those infernal tears building up in my eyes. Jason let's go of my hand abruptly and I look up from where I've fixed my gaze, at my feet. He wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side. I hide my face in his shoulder for a moment, gathering myself before I find the strength to continue.

"My-my dad went off the deep end, and my mom went with him…." I pause and bite my lip: my throat closing up. "I knew I could get shipped off to foster care, so I took off, went to New York, developed an obsession for Martial arts, and then I met Peter." I finished, before tightening my pony tail and staring back down at my feet.

"That would explain the crazy desire to kick butt." He nods and I laugh surprisingly relaxed as I wipe my teary eyes. Only Jason could so perfectly wreck that serious moment. He turns a little, tucking his leg beneath his so he can look me in the eyes. "But seriously, you have no idea how strong you are for surviving all of that." He murmurs, his eyes not filled with pity, thankfully, instead filled with respect. "Thank you for trusting me with that." He finally mutters, before taking my hands in his. "Did they...ever catch the guys?" He wonders and I shake my head, unable to find the words. Jason stays silent before finally pulling me into a tight hug. I let him, surprising myself in the process. I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face in his 's right when I hear footsteps coming down the stairs.


	11. Hello's, Harmony, and Hairstyles

Chapter Eleven

"Um… hello?" Liam stutters, as I scramble away from Jason and wipe my eyes frantically.

"Hey, we were just…." I trail off, not a clue how to explain what just happened. Jason luckily comes to my rescue.

"I'm teaching her how to fake cry." He lies, flawlessly. Liams' eyebrows rise and I'm sure he noticed some flaw in the execution that I didn't, but looking at my face he lets it go.

"Yeah, so um… Peter wants you two in his office." He shrugs, and heads over to the elliptical. I slide off the bench and creep up the stairs without a , my foot catches on the stairs, and I lurch forward. Jason laughs before helping me up and resting his hand on my lower back for support. "You know, you don't need to seduce me at this point, it's okay to stay on your feet." He teases, purposely letting his lips brush over the sensitive skin, referring to my graceful techniques earlier. I roll my eyes and close the door to the basement behind us. That's right about the same time that I realize Jason's hand in still on my back. With a glare hard in my eyes, I spin towards him.

"Keep your hands to yourself." I remind him but he just smirks before stepping closer to me, and backing me against the wall. My heart beats erratically and lodges in my throat. Not enough oxygen is reaching my brain as he leans a little bit closer, and the room around me starts to spin. I feel my eyes widen and I lick my lips. With a gentle hand, he brushes my hair out of my face, before tucking it behind my ear.

"You can't pull that anymore, Hannah, I know you trust me now." He reminds me, before brushing a delicate kiss across my collar-bone. I freeze, not used to the tenderness, and the emotions on his face. My breath catches and I swallow loudly, trying to get around the lump in my throat. "But I'm not going to push you anymore." He promises, before stepping back and sliding his hands into the pockets of his pants. The normal teenage girl in me is disappointed that he didn't kiss me and makes my heart drop with regret. "You can trust me." He reminds me, before striding off towards the study.

….

Expensive books line the walls, volumes upon volumes of the rarest and most intricate editions known to man. We all have a crutch, being a thief is strange, you have to keep moving, living on the bare essentials, but know one is entirely faithful to that hard and fast rule. For Peter, its books; he loves a good mystery, a challenge, and a story is his favorite way to get it. We're all a little crazy that way. Running my palms on my shirt, I smooth it down, unable to tap down the anxious nerves in the pit of my stomach. Glancing out of the corner of my eye, I watch as Jason leans back, slipping his hands behind the back of his head. I still can't get over what he said earlier, and the nerves that bubble up because of it. I wanted him to kiss me, the feel of his lips on mine driving me crazy, not that I would ever admit it aloud, hell it takes a lot of effort to admit it to myself. Crazy repressed teenage girl hormones are the perpetrator, not real feelings. The root of the matter is that Jason is the only guy in my life who I don't think of like a brother. Pushing the elastic up, I tighten my pony tail, before crossing my arms over my chest.

"What's the plan?" I ask, as Peter avidly studies one of his diagrams. The only conclusion I've ever been able to draw is that it they're a bit like basket ball plays, a team of offense and defense, the only difference is that it's hundreds of plays overlapping, like all the plays in a game being drawn out at once, or in this case, not a game but a con. I can't follow it, but he can read them like a Dr. Seuss book. I hope to god it's an acquired skill, because a four-year old Peter with the same abilities is a very scary thought.

"I want you two inside on Friday night, Hannah you need to keep the mark busy and I want Jason keeping everyone away from the safe room for as long as possible; do you understand?" He asks, without lifting his head. Before I realize that he can't see me, I nod, and then mumble my assent along with Jason. We both rise uncertainly, until Peter waves his hand, dismissing us. Jason bounds forward, quickly exiting the room, but I hesitate, glancing at the diagram and wondering which circle represents me. Peter finally looks up meeting my eyes.

"Did you want anything Hannah?" He asks curiously, and I'm instantly reminded of his discussion with me earlier, about not missing out on life. I swallow and shake my head, before fleeing out the door.

…

I stare at my closet, the racks and racks of jeans and t-shirts. Biting my lip, I tilt my head, wondering if they'll look any better from this angle. Finally sighing in resignation, I take out my phone. Well, my phone for the week, under the name Melanie Frasier. Speed dial 3 leads me to the phone ringing, until James picks up. Salsa and high-pitched laughter chime in the background, and James voice sounds muffled.

"Sorry Ladies, I got to take this." He explains and then the noise slowly fades away. "What can I do for you?" James asks his voice light.

"Tell me, what are those "Ladies" wearing?" I wonder, biting my lip and running my fingers over my wide assortments of zip up sweatshirts.

"String bikinis, why?" He answers without hesitation. I roll my eyes, knowing that the only shorts I have to my name come to my finger tips.

"I need your help, what does your average temptress wear to a millionaire's birthday party?" The laughter and snorting from the other end of the line is quite enough to bruise my ego.

"Are you asking me because I'm the only Millionaire you know or because I'm the only one with 'temptresses' running around?" He asks unable to stop laughing.

"You're not the only Millionaire I know, but you are the only one who has actually birthday parties." I remind him, remembering the time that Owen showed me his value in the stock markets. James chuckles again, but seems, for the moment, to have regained his composure.

"Wait let me ask one of my friends here." He says, ignoring my protests. I blush not quite sure how he's going to phrase this one. "Hey, so I have a friend who needs fashion advice, can you give her some recommendations?" He asks, and I feel my face get hotter, even though, thankfully, no one can see me. I hear an awkward shuffle as the phone is transferred.

"Hey, so James just showed me a picture, and I'm sure I can help you out." The mysterious girl explains. "You look a bit like me, the hair and everything, so I'm sending you a link to a dress I've had my eye on, you might want to go strapless underneath it, and the link to some silver sandals, and a necklace, and a pair of earrings and a bracelet." She goes on and on and on. "Oooo and I found this hairstyle idea that'll work, make sure to send James a picture of the finished product."

"Thanks," I reply, my voice more timid than I'm used to.

"So when's the party?" She wonders, and I hear the muffled sound of her shoeing James off.

"Friday," I answer, glancing at my shoe rack, other than the heels and slinky black dress I've already used, I really don't own anything girly. Even the stuff I've worn the last few days has been joke gifts from the guys over the years. I will admit, one of the most surprising Christmas presents I've ever gotten in my life, was from James,and came in a light and dark pink striped bag, had a letter in the size,and even more surprising is that it would've fit. I almost killed him.

"Oh… who's this guy you're trying to impress?" She wonders, and I blush, thinking of Jason and Liam for a minute before I realize she means the mark.

"It's complicated." I mutter, fidgeting with the hem of my t-shirt. My shoes scuff on the wooden floor and I watch their progress.

"Well… I've got to go, tell me what happens." She chimes, before hanging up the phone. I sigh and flop back on to my bed, exasperated. Glancing at my phone, I see the six links I've just been emailed: looks like my Swiss bank account is going to lose a bit of money today. After buying all of her suggestions, and charging it to my debit card, (not in my name of course, actually Paris Hilton's), I head to my bathroom and look in the mirror. I'm not homely, even though I feel like it occasionally. My brown hair looks okay with my complexion, and I'm not completely without curves. With a sigh, I hop in the shower and let the hot water relax my tired muscles.


	12. Disappearances, Dreams, and Desperation

Chapter Twelve

Liam adjusted his tie as he slipped into the kitchen. There's a confidence, not arrogance, but a sense of self sureness that surrounds him at all times, and I envy him for it. I watch from a diner down the street, surveying the scene on Owens's laptop screen. Peter was too busy to supervise the reconnaissance mission himself, so he sent me. I'd been in this world for long enough to be able to keep a keen eye. Liam however…

Careful to grin at a waitress as he meanders past, he makes his way through the bustling room. Slipping into the hallway, he quickly discards his tray and apron, while taking on the sturdy appearance of a security guard. Pausing for just a moment to admire an aerial view of the 49er's stadium, I catch his hand sliding beneath the tabletop.

"Excellent, now the next one is on the phone in the study, Franks is at a poker game at his one of his friend's places." He nods, almost in perceptively, and I quickly change cameras so I can follow his curving route through the mansion. Sports memorabilia and beer posters line the walls; I can't help but wonder when the last time Frank's mother visited was. I tighten my pony tail and focus back in on the screen.

"What's going on with you and Jason?" Liam mutters under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear him. I blush and glance around the coffee shop, as if anyone in my vicinity would have a clue what I'm talking about.

"Nothing," I blurt, my nails biting into the wood on the table.

"Oh… good" Before I have time to fully process this he continues, "Look I have to go out tonight, I probably won't be back until the early morning. So where's the next one?" He wonders as he puts the bug on the landline perched precariously on Frank's desk.

"In the dining room, silk curtains" I instruct on instinct. "Where are you going?" I demand, and I watch as he tenses before slipping into the poshly furnished dining room, also the one room without any sports memorabilia. This is the only place where Franks could meet his mother when she comes to visit, if I had to venture a guess.

"It's personal, sorry." He mumbles, and I watch as his hand deftly brushes through the curtains, a passerby would think he was just feeling the fabric, but I know better. Three down four to go.

"You're really not going to tell me?" I'm in shock: the last time Liam kept something from me was, well, never. We've shared everything with each other since the day Peter took him in, and that was over five years ago. I just can't believe this. Liam never answers my question, but it's not like I ever expected him to.

"Where am I going?" He wonders, leaning against the dining room wall and reminding me a bit of Jason. N ot ot mention the bitter irony of his statement.

"Wall outside the safe room, up against the door frame" I rattle off, while thinking something entirely different. _"Now, sure, I know, but tonight… I wish I knew."_

…

The cool steal presses against my back, as I'm forced back into the alley: the dark, deserted alley. How pathetic…. Tears stream down my face, and sobs rake my body. A hand grabs my hair, ripping it back, while another searches my pockets. I watch out of the corner of my eye as they scour through my Vera purse. It was a gift from my sister for my birthday. They chuck the Panera coupon so it slides across the asphalt, not caring when it lands in a puddle. Finally, they come up with a twenty and I hear them all voice their complaints. The gun digs a little deeper into my back.

"Where's the rest of it, give it to us!" Someone snarls in my ear and I shake my head and sob again, before they fling me up against the wall, the gun lowered at my chest…

"NO!" I scream; flying up in my bed, the sheets twisted around me. Tears run down my face. I frantically survey the dark room, still seeing the alley where my sister died. She was helpless, taking advantage of, and she couldn't fight back. I'm sick to my stomach and my heart won't stop racing.

I throw the sheets away from me, and slither into the hallway, glancing in both directions, I'm halfway to Liam's door when I remember he's not here. It's a wonder this is the first night that he isn't here to help. I eye Danny's door before shaking my head. Danny knows about my past, but I can't picture him knowing how to comfort me. If I was a bomb that's about to detonate, sure he'd be able to figure it out, but emotions not so much. Owen on the other hand, would start rattling off what my symptoms could mean. He at least tries though. With a sigh, I finally settle on Jason's door, knocking quickly before slipping into the dark room.

"Jason?" I whisper, feeling silly, but unable to talk myself out of it. He lethargically sits up and I can't help but decide that if I was a serial killer, he'd be dead by now. I watch as he rubs his eyes before they land on me.

"You know, when I imagined this you were in a frilly nightgown." He sits up in his bed, and I can't help but notice he's shirtless, but thankfully I see the top of black sweatpants so I figure I'm all good. I cross my arms over my chest ad look down at my t-shirt and basketball shorts. Frilly night-gown my butt. I feel the blush burn across my cheeks and realize I'm still shaking.

"Jason, I had this dream." I start, feeling like a four-year old. Jason's expression turns confused, then sympathetic.

"You can crash here," He offers, and rolls over before I can even ask. Borrowing a blanket, I curl up on the floor, uncomfortable but slowly starting to relax. "I'm not going to bite." He calls down to me; uneasily, I peer up and he still has his back turned towards me. I don't respond but just roll over, trying to get comfortable. About fifteen minutes later, I cave and slide under the sheets, perched at the edge of the mattress. I can sense Jason smirking, even though I can't see it.

"I wasn't kidding about the frilly nightgown, but I never thought it would happen. What could've possibly been that scary?" He asks, rolling over to face me, his head propped up with his arm. He can probably feel my blush despite of the darkness, and I hide my face in the pillow. A gentle hand strokes my hair out of my face and I flinch. "Okay, hands off." I hear him slide away, towards the opposite edge of the bed. " But if you want to talk about it, feel free." Ten minutes pass before I have the guts to look up. His back faces me, but his shoulders are still tense, he's awake.

"It was about my sister," I breathe and he turns to me. His hair is oddly mused from sleep and closely resembling the way it looked after our last kiss.

"Sorry, I didn't hear you." He slides a little closer as he speaks, so there's barely a foot between us.

"My sister," I repeat, "how she died, that was what my dream was about." Jason blanches and then pulls me close. I hide my face in his chest, grateful for the human contact. It's crazy but he seems to know precisely what I need. I feel a tear curve down my cheek and roll off my chin. I sniffle and then mutter "well, at least I don't have to worry about ruining your shirt." I feel his low laugh rumble through him as he adjusts his pillow.

"Just relax, your safe," He assures me, stroking my hair. Despite the voice of reason shrieking its protests in my head, I drift to sleep in his arms.


	13. Misinterpretations

Chapter thirteen

**_Jason_**

I glance down at the girl asleep beside me. If I didn't know any better, I'd have thought that she sleeps with one eye open. Surprisingly, she's relaxed, even snoring faintly. When I first saw the little sliver of light and Hannah slipping into my room, I didn't believe it. There she was in the ripped t-shirt and baggy shorts that were somehow even better than a frilly nightgown, literally shaking with fear. It didn't surprise me when she curled up on the floor; I know she doesn't trust me. Well, she trusts me as a colleague, a fellow thief, but she doesn't trust me as a person, a friend. I didn't tease her about her dream, because I know she has way heavier things on her mind than nightmares. I'd never make fun of her for coming to me for comfort. The surprise was that she came to me, of all people. She's always made it clear that I'm not her favorite person, so why on earth would she choose me over Liam?

She stirs a little in her sleep, and rolls into my side. I slide back a little, knowing how pissed she'd be if she woke up all over me. I'd rather avoid that uncomfortable discussion, thank you very much. Still, she slithers a little closer, resting her head on my out stretched arm, I sigh in defeat and stay in one place, noticing the tiny smile on her lips. God, I want to kiss her, but I won't, I won't take advantage of her like that.

I knew she'd cave eventually, the floor could not have been very comfortable, and when she did, I tried to hide my ego from her, not wanting to push my luck. I highly doubt that I was successful. She flinched the first time that I touched her, and it hurt more than her punching me in the gut. I promised I'd keep my hands off, but then she told me about her dream, I couldn't help it. I hugged her to me, and luckily she didn't flinch despite her supposed hatred of me; she even relaxed enough to fall asleep. After a while of just watching her and listening to her even breathing, I fell asleep too.

As I reflect on the very bizarre night, her hand drifts to my chest. Subconsciously, her fingers dance over my bare skin, making my heartbeat do strange things as my nerve endings spark and crackle. She snuggles herself into my side and I swallow anxiously, as her leg hooks around mine. Who would've thought Hannah would be a cuddler?

She cried last night; I never thought she'd trust me enough to cry in front of me. She's strong, powerful, and always in control. I'm under no illusions that she doesn't have a soft side, but I never thought she'd let me see it. On the other hand, I doubt it had anything to do with me. Pain was ripping her into two pieces as I held her and all I could do was watch and try to comfort her.

Watching her face now, I can barely believe this confident, heart-wrenchingly amazing girl is burdened with so much pain. My life is pretty screwed up but I can't even imagine the strength getting through everyday requires. Apparently, her nights are even more painful if she's coming to me for comfort. Carefully, I tuck a stray strand behind her ear, unable to resist. I wrap one arm around her waist, reminding myself thoroughly of our heated kisses. The first one was to mess with her: to get under Liam's skin; I'm not sure when things changed but they did. I'm nervous when I'm around her, and fascinated by her strength and charisma. She doesn't seem to comprehend just how amazing she is.

I find myself clinging to this moment like I was dying, because I knew that the moment sunlight invaded the room and dazzling blue eyes looked up at me, it would be over and we'd go back to our normal awkward state.

**_Hannah_**

There's something warm beside me and I feel relaxed, and pleasantly comfy. Taking a deep breath I notice a positively delicious smell. Slowly, hesitantly,I reach out a hand and smooth down the sheets, but instead of cool cotton, I feel heated skin. My eyes fly open and I scramble out of the bed, tossing the sheets away from me. Something dangerous swims across Jason' eyes: before he shakes his head and sits up in the bed.

"You okay?" He asks, rubbing his eyes and yawning. As he stretches, his muscles flex and I swear I almost started drooling. Jason isn't huge or overly muscular; he isn't even built like Peter or Liam. Jason is a completely different type of delectable. I run my fingers through my hair selfconsciously, which must look like a rat's nest now.

"I've been better." I admit, swallowing anxiously. "Why the hell would you let me stay last night?" I demand angrily, crossing my arms over my chest. I actually crawled into bed with him… but I wasn't in my right mind.

"_Excuse me_, last time I checked, I did you a favor, I _let_ you stay. I didn't have to do that you know." He protest, the anger's in his eyes, but he runs his hands through his hair, giving away his confusion.

"You shouldn't have, I wasn't… I wasn't me last night." I stutter, trying to explain despite my lack of fluency. Suddenly, the sheets are flung off the bed and Jason's in front of me. He reaches out and just gently cups my cheek in his palm.

"Hannah, I didn't have any intention of taking advantage of you last night." He assures me, before smoothing his thumb over my lips. "You were upset, so I comforted you." His tone almost sounds hurt, like he's offended that I didn't trust him. I nod, not sure what I could say in this situation.

"Can I ask you why you were in my bed and not Liam's?" He wonders, destroying the tenderness of the moment. I have a strong urge to slap him. My eyes narrow and I bat his hand of my face.

"Don't flatter yourself, he wasn't back yet." I snarl, before striding away and out the door. At the door, I pause, before calling over my shoulder, "and for god's sakes put on a shirt!"

The door closes behind me with a quiet thud and I lean against it, more than a little dizzy. I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose, remembering how much I wanted to kiss him and the feel of his touch on my face. It might just be my imagination, but I could've sworn that I heard someone sigh, "That's the Hannah I know." As I'm about to start heading back to my room, Liam rounds the corner.

"Hannah? What are you doing out here?" He wonders, taking in my appearance as I do the same for him. He just looks like Liam, stupid t-shirt, jeans and all. His eyes linger on my shorts and snarled hair. Without thinking, I gesture over my shoulder at Jason's door.

"I was with… um… Jason." Liam blanches and shakes his head, something like sadness in his eyes. It's only then that I realize how my answer could be interpreted. "Um… Uh… I didn't mean that…." Liam doesn't wait for my explanation; he slides into his own room and doesn't spare me a second glance.


	14. Failures, Firsts, and Frustration

Failures, Firsts, and Frustration

This chapter's been edited, I made a HUGE mistake at the very end, so I hope this clears up any questions you guys have.

Chapter Fourteen

The Latin beat was fast and fiery. Endorphins are truly a fabulous thing. I follow the dancer on the screen, dropping my center of gravity with a wrist flick. I thought I was pretty well-coordinated, but dancing is clearly not my thing. If there's one more stupid 'x' flashing on the screen, I'm going to smash it into a million pieces.

My wrist has still been bothering me, so I resorted to this torture. After unearthing the gift from Owen: that was still in a pile in the closet, and spending a minute staring at the case, I finally popped the Zumba disc into the Wii in the basement and shoved down my pride, which is a very, very difficult thing to do, when you're me. Feeling slightly ridiculous, I got through the hula song; I even suffered through the Celtic Folk, but a Latin bit is not my style. I'm not sure I have a style. I feel like an idiot, as I flip my hand and jerk my hips. I get about half of the points, which is still kind of sad.

"I can't decide if I'm feeling more hopeful or attracted to you at the moment." Someone calls, I spin around, embarrassed. I really must be losing my edge if I didn't hear him descend the stairs. I tilt my head and study him, pretending I'm in control, even though I'm not. I think i lost the ability to stay in control a while ago.

"Hopeful?" I raise an eyebrow, not completely understanding his reaction. Attraction? well he's a teenage boy, it's to be expected that if he sees a girl shaking her butt, he's going to take notice. He smiles softly, not grinning, not smirking: just smiling. Feeling a bit braver than usual, I reach over and brush his hair out of his eyes. His eyes widen with surprise, I don't think he was expecting me to touch him; now that I think about it, I don't think I've ever started physical contact between us.

"I never thought there could be anything that you can't do." He explains, and there's genuine admiration in his tone.

"What are you talking about, I can't con for my life." I remind him, not used to flattery and wanting to change the subject, to something more comfortable, before he steps closer.

"But you fixed that." He points out, and I blush a little, seeing that he won't let me get away that easily, before mumbling.

"I had a little help." I bite my lip to keep the smile off of my face, but I don't think I'm successful. I can't believe I'm smiling . I'm standing in shorts and a tank top, way more revealed than usual. I've worked out for an hour, and feel ridiculously gross, but somehow, that's fading away under his gaze.

"Yeah, but you were the one who fixed it. It's a little uplifting to know that you're not totally unattainable." He can't seem to get the smile off his face either, as he steps a little closer. I glance over my shoulder and glare at the screen.

"I hate this stupid thing, but I _will_ beat it." My eyes narrow, and I reach for the remote. One arm wraps around my middle as he grabs the remote out of my reach and slides it into the belt, so it can measure my movements. He slides his hands down to my hips, asserting gentle pressure.

"Relax, keep your movements fluid, you don't have to be aggressive about it." He murmurs. He gently moves my hips for me, and despite the fact that I feel idiotic, I still lean back against his chest. He starts the song over and guides me through the moves. His hands aren't possessive or forceful on my body. For once, I feel like I have a clue what I'm doing. I glance at the screen, see my score climbing higher and higher, and feel myself relaxing bit by bit with each step. The song finishes and the avatar on the screen does a back flip. Personally, I'm closer to collapsing on the floor, and I suddenly have a whole new appreciation for professional dancers.

"I thought you weren't going to push me." I half pant from exhaustion. A low chuckle vibrates through his chest and he slides his arms so they wrap around my waist, pulling me closer in the process.

"That wasn't pushing you. It was helping" He murmurs, his lips brushing my ear. I can practically feel him grinning as I still. He kisses _that_ spot right below my ear, before moving down my neck. "This is pushing you," He corrects, the words tickling my heated skin. I stretch back, turning my head so I can Jason's face. Slowly, he plants kisses on my neck, moving back up, and brushing over my jaw.

"Jason?" My voice quivers, and I think my knees have turned to jelly.

"Hmmm," His lips don't leave my skin for even a moment as they descend back down to my pulse point, where they rest for a moment as my pulse flies. I'm sure he can tell it and I can feel the smile on my skin.

"Would you consider... kissing me pushing it?" I murmur, closing his my eyes, as he kisses my pulse point again.

"Depends on the kiss," He tries to keep his tone neutral but I can hear the smirk. He knows he has me in the palm of his hand, and I don't really care. Suddenly, the soft pressure of his lips on my skin disappears, and I can feel his breath tickling my face. While my eyes are still closed, he kisses me quickly: just the tiniest kiss, barely even there, before it's gone and he backs away, letting go of me at the same time. My eyes flutter open, and I spin around, catching him backing away. Without thinking about it, I stride forward and weave my fingers through his hair, pulling his head down to mine. I catch his eyes with my gaze, and wait, letting the tension build before stretching and pressing my lips to his.

**_Jason_**

I never thought she could beat me at my own game. Her dazzling blue eyes lock on mine and she kisses me, a fearsome passion making up for my hesitation earlier. I try to keep my head, to give her the respect and the boundaries she deserves. But her fingers trace along my jaw line, our tongues touch, and the ability for coherent thought turns into just a memory. No girl has ever done this to me, I've always kept a clear head, but Hannah is anything except just another girl. I wrap my arms around her and rest my hand on her lower back. My fingers encountering bare skin revealed when her tank top crept up as she let me teach her how to dance.

Her lips slowly move with mine, and she doesn't need to be fast or fiery, she just has to kiss like Hannah: purposeful, strong and her own brand of sexy. Her arms loop around my neck as she backs up, tugging me back into the center of the room. In the process, she backs into the arm of a chair, dropping back on the couch. I catch myself as I fall over with her and brace my weight on my hands, not wanting to hurt her, even though it's superficial. She moans quietly against my lips, and slides her hands up into my hair. As she scoots back on the couch, I place my knees on either side of her hips. Yanking her hair out of the elastic and running my fingers through it, I catch her bottom lip between my teeth as I groan. I'm not normally like this, I'm cool and calculating, there's always a part of me that's disengaged; except when Hannah's involved.

In the back corner of my mind, I register that someone calls down the stairs and that Hannah stills. Suddenly, she pulls away and shakes her head at me, fright in her blue eyes.

"Stop. This… this was a mistake," She murmurs, and pushes me off. I gape down at her, so confused. Seconds ago, literally seconds before hand, she was acting like there was no other place she'd want to be, and now… I don't know. I watch as she stands up, adjusts her clothes and attempts to tame her hair, as if her bright red lips don't give away what she's been doing, before scampering up the stairs. "Hey Liam" carries down the stairs and my blood boils. Who else?


	15. The Unexpected

Chapter Fifteen

_**Hannah**_

I tuck my legs under myself as I plop down on the couch. On the 70-inch flat screen, we watch Owen make his way through the hallways. His cherry red overalls and computer logo, protect his cover as being from the security company, but his fidgety demeanor isn't helping.

"Calm down, Owen." Peter orders through coms. Liam is beside me, anxiously shaking his leg, and Jason in sullenly, sulking on the other side of the room. I can tell he's brooding. I know it wasn't fair to him to leave like that, but it was a mistake to kiss him, and I had to end it, right then and there. I know there's no way in hell we'll ever work, and there are way too many complications. Liam needed me to help get Owen ready, so I did, the job's the most important thing, after all. The expression on Jason's face seems to differ with my opinion.

Owen, pauses outside the safe, glancing in both directions down the hallway. The camera placed above him is blind, and the guards are patrolling opposite sections of the mansion for the moment. He pulls a screwdriver out of his pocket and starts working at the outer edge of the key pad.

I hold my breath, waiting for the plastic cover to pop up. The code is eight digits and no one wants to waste twenty minutes in the middle of a heist tapping random codes into a key pad. There's a mechanism Owen can use within the device that'll allow him to add a secondary code: that Danny will use to get into the safe. His shoulders relax slightly when the cover is removed with a quiet pop.

Before any of us have time to warn him, a hand lands on Owen's shoulder. He turns around slowly, his eyes wider than baseballs. I glance at Liam, the panic clear on my face. Danny's frantically typing on Owen's laptop. I focus on the man standing in front of Owen. Broad shouldered, brown hair, and dark eyes, paired with a deep scowl on his face. Owen's positively trembling. I'm calculating all the ways I could get out of this situation, a hand grab, spinning back to him with a hand sword to the neck. Owen, however, Owen has to bank on luck, unfortunately.

"Stay calm Owen, stick to your cover." Peter reminds him, in his most soothing voice, Liam bristles beside me, knowing that if he's taken to using that tone we're all screwed. I glance at Jason, who seems just as concerned as the rest of us.

"Hello sir, I'm from Palloway Security." Owen lies, sounding stilted even to our ears, us who so desperately want this to work out. The burly man's eyes narrow.

"It's funny, I called Palloway just five minutes ago, and they denied ever sending any technician." Owen pales, Liam wouldn't have but Owen isn't Liam. I would've squirmed and tried to lie my way out of it, probably unsuccessfully. Jason would've turned the tables on the unsuspecting guy. Unfortunately, Owen is better behind a laptop than face to face with a crook.

"Danny, find out who that is," Peter hisses tersely behind him. Danny frantically pounds on Owen's key board mumbling out of the corner of his mouth a few curses.

"I've got it! It's Erik Palino, Franks's Uncle. He's forty-eight, and he worked for the CIA." Peter curses under his breath, and Liam shakes his head. His sandy blonde hair falls in his eyes and I have the distinct want to brush it out-of-the-way. He catches me watching and raises an eyebrow with a smirk. I bush and force my focus back to the problem at hand, really what kind of girl thinks about guys when her friends in danger? I quickly look at the man, noticing scars and slight weak points on his physic , not as many as you'd expect though….

"That explains the ridiculous security," Danny mutters, sounding grumpy. I watch, astounded, as Palino brutally drags Owen out of the room.

"And why Franks has the Picasso in the first place." My observation earns startled expressions from everyone in the room, even Jason, who has been so determined to ignore me like a six-year-old. "His Uncle confiscated it, while with the CIA, and left shortly after. He gave it to his nephew, so that when they realized it was gone, and they investigated, they wouldn't find it in his possession." Everyone except Peter gapes at me like I just discovered the moon was made of cheddar cheese. He smiles and nods, pleased that I had deduced correctly, before relaying messages to Owen. _Where did that come from?_ Liam asks silently, I shrug.

"Too much time around Peter has me thinking like him." I whisper, and Liam grins, though he still seems uneasy.

"Owen, you know how I said that the panic button was just for emergencies?" On the screen, Owen nods almost imperceptibly.

"Hit it, and make sure that you leave the backup plan behind so they have an excuse for your motive." Peter orders, and Owen swallows before slowly dropping a flash drive on to the ground, before undoing a hidden latch on his watch and pressing the bright red button hidden beneath.

Bedlam erupts within seconds, blaring alarms and sprinklers add begin the chaos. Palino gapes at the ceiling like he's never seen water before and Owen, sensing his opportunity takes off at a sprint. Following him through security cameras, I realize that it's not just alarms that are going haywire: everything electronic has decided it doesn't like Franks today. Music blares from every speaker, each playing a completely different song, lights flash, and the televisions are flying between channels at a rapid rate. We all have our own unique way of causing chaos but I think Owen's might take the prize. As he bursts out of the mansion and slides into the limo waiting, courtesy of James, I can't help but think that this job just got a hell of a lot harder.


	16. Panic, Pressure, and Presentations

Chapter Sixteen

_The music is obnoxiously loud, and jarring with every single note, but it can't even hope to rival the frenzied beat of my heart drumming away in my ear. I frantically weave through the crowd, not bothering to hide the emotions clearly written across my face, I don't notice people or much else, just bodies in my way. Someone's pulling the oxygen out of the room; it's the only explanation for why it's suddenly so hard to breathe. The coms unit squeals in my ear, and as the noise crackles into silence I realize I'm too late._

...

I hesitantly unwrap my dress, which I've been too afraid to take out of the box up until this point. It's every girl's dream, a slinky red dress that costs way more than it should. How much does it really cost to make a dress? I highly doubt the production cost includes as many zeroes as the price tag does.

Slipping into the silky fabric, and stepping into the sandals, which thankfully are not freakish stilettos, I take a deep breath and try to steady myself for the night to come. Glancing in the mirror, I'm not sure if the job is really going to be the most trying part of the night. Unfortunately, I have to start to gather the courage to face the guys. If these last few times are any indication, they won't be merciful with their teasing.

We've always been like this on the day of the job, Peter's always hated how we make a joke out of everything when we should be being serious, but we all know it's our coping method for dealing with the stress. I don't want to think about how much that dynamics changed since Jason's entered the picture, especially since I'm already panicky.

I don't understand why I'm so nervous this time around, it's not like it's my first job. Unfortunately, I've never been such a key player, my job has always been to step in when something goes wrong and quickly dissolve the situation: nothing so pressured and elongated. I run through all the little details Jason taught me in my mind. I can't let anyone down tonight.

I slip outside of my room, slowly making my way down the stairs with my hand on the barrister, feeling a tinny tiny bit like a princess. In my imagination, the room goes silent as I enter: all eyes on me in gaping surprise as they wonder when exactly I gained this beauty and grace. In reality, only one head turns, and it's not even the one I'm hoping for. Liam notices and when he does, he starts for me immediately, but not with any awe in his eyes.

"Hey, you ready?" He asks, crossing his arms over his chest. I don't like the way he's looking at me: the cold detachment in his eyes that I'm not used to seeing. It flickers a little when he sees my expression, and he leads me into the foyer, to the side and out-of-the-way. "Nightmares again?" He guesses, but I shake my head, I didn't have nightmares last night, at least not the kind he's referring to. These nightmares had moe to do with a certain, extremely frustrating thief, who's decided I'm not worth paying attention to.

I really didn't think he could avoid me, this effectively, for this long. He doesn't even seem to notice me. Come on! I'm standing here in a dress recommended by your every day temptress who was following a billionaire around in a string bikini. This is taking not pushing me to a whole new level.

"You okay?" He wonders, putting his hands on my shoulders. I peek around him and spot Jason getting suited up by Owen and Danny: panic button included. I don't know what Peter's plan is other than my part to keep Franks distracted and Jason's job of keeping everyone away from the safe room, and not knowing is making me nauseous. He's always doing this, keeping everyone blind, he thinks that it helps everyone stay calm and just follow orders without looking too deeply into anything. I think he likes the power too much.

"Yeah, I'm fine, the last time was the night you were gone." I assure him, and I can't resist the opportunity to fling that barb at him. He flinches, and suddenly I'm not sure that he deserved it.

"God, I'm sorry, I didn't know, I should've been there," He pulls me into a hug, and I breathe in that comfortable scent, of lemon and clean boy, that is Liam. He pulls back, eyeing me worriedly. "Were you okay?" He wonders, and with a sick twist in my stomach, I realize that he's always been there for me, until now.

"Jason was around." The words slip out of my mouth without considering the ramifications. Liam blanches and glares at Jason across the room.

"I don't like it, I don't trust him." Liam snarls through his teeth, and I realize his arms are still looped around my waist. Instead of feeling comfortable and excited about this, I can't help but think that it's not the same as how Jason's touch feels, and how it makes me react.

"Yeah, well, you weren't here, so I don't see why you should have a voice in the matter." Once again, there's that big mouth of mine at it again. I wish it were a lie, at least then, I could apologize, or assure him it's not true. Unfortunately, it's true, and Jason has no control over me. Liam stills, not even blinking, before his eyes harden.

"I had no idea that would happen; the dreams have been less frequent lately." He shakes his head in disbelief, still wrapping his mind around the fact that Jason, the intruder, was there for me when he wasn't. He reaches forward and pushes a chunk of hair behind my ear; his fingers brushing me face lightly.

"Are you ever going to tell me where you went?" I meant for it to sound like a demand, but it sounds unfortunately resigned. Liam must hear it too, because he just solemnly shakes his head, before leaning closer and pressing a quick kiss against my cheek. As he pulls away, his breath gently caresses my skin.

"Good luck" He whispers, and slides away, out the door of the mansion to do his part. I watch him leave at the beginning, then transfer my gaze to Jason, who's still carefully averting looking in my direction, but there's a telltale tightening in his jaw that doesn't go unnoticed.

…

The car I'm "borrowing" from James doesn't seem to agree with driving at thirty. If I get even the slightest bit distracted, I'm at 90 and don't even realize it. There was this really interesting night after a job, and this lovely highway in Europe….

Relaxing my shoulders, I pull into the cobblestone driveway leading up to Frank's Mansion. I smile at the poor guy stuck manning the security gate, and he gratefully smiles back, apparently glad that I'm not some horrible harpy. It's too bad that all hell's going to rain down the moment they discover the Picasso's gone.

"Hate to say it, but I have to ask who your with." He leans forward, partially leaning on the hood of my car with a clipboard in his hands.

"Oh, it's not a problem, trust me, I'm with Harrison Leonard." I smile at him, even when his grin falters for a moment as he makes the connection between me and the filthy rich guest. I almost expect him to start flipping out, causing a hitch before I'm even on the property, but he waves me through, and I start to drive up the winding driveway.

Putting a relaxed smile on my face, I force my nerves out of my system. I have faith in my team; nothing can go wrong tonight.


	17. Dancing, Daring Feats, & Double Trouble

Chapter Seventeen

Hannah

The crowd's already pulsing with energy as I work my way through the room. It's surprising to me, that in less than a week, the same hundreds of people have gathered here twice. Short skirt and Muscle shirts galore in the writhing crowd. SO many people are here, it'll be impossible to keep the security as impeccable as it normally is. Not even some old hat government agent can keep us away from the painting tonight.

An easy smile adorns my face as I find the man I'm looking for. I focus on channeling my inner sweetheart as I make my way over to him. The arrogant smirk playing on his face doesn't have the right playful tilt to it to make my heart flutter.

"Did you miss me?" I ask, with a little tilt of the head. He looks me up and down with a puzzled expression for a moment, before recognition hits him like a freight train. I almost laugh as he recognizes me.

"You're that girl, the one who kissed me the other night, right?" Franks gapes at me in surprise, eyes raking over my dress hovering at my legs before slowly making his way back to my face. I send a mental thank you note to James and his horde of temptresses. Tilting my head, I bite my lip, looking up at him with lowered lashes. Franks' eyes linger on my lower lip and I try to keep the smirk off my face. Who knew Jason could teach me so much? Honestly, this is really easy.

"Guilty," I admit, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. He freezes for a moment, mouth slightly open. His eyes are wide and I notice they're a nice shade of green, but they don't have any crazy effect on me, not even close. Franks is an arrogant, egotistical pig, as most of my marks are actually. As if to prove my point, he ogles me, again, and I resist the urge to cross my arms over my chest. _Keep your body language open, stay relaxed._ The tip brings back the memory of Jason putting his hands on my shoulders, forcing them to stop being so tense. The trails of fire that followed his touch caught me off guard. I wasn't expecting it, nor was I expecting the way that he left his hands on my skin a bit longer than necessary.

"Did you know who I was?" He asks, running his fingers through his hair. Funny, it's not even half as hard as I thought it would be to put him on edge. I laugh, and lean against the wall beside him.

"Yeah," I admit, allowing a blush to hit my cheeks, and look down at my heels, feigning embarrassment. "And I heard about your birthday, so I figured I'd drop in."

"How'd you even get in tonight?" He asks, I pretend to seem hurt and he pales. "Not that I don't want you here or anything!" He blurts frantically and is about to continue when I smile reassuringly.

"Would you believe it if I said I found out who your best friend is, found him, and then talked him into putting me as his plus one?" I grimace and then go back to biting my lip like I'm, out of my mind, nervous. He laughs and wraps an arm around my shoulders. I force myself not to shrink away, or you know, put him in an arm bar. Though the idea is very tempting...

"That's pretty stalker-ish for a sweet little girl like you." He teases and I look down and off to the side as if I'm trying to hide my blush. I honestly hope normal girls don't have to go to these lengths to get invited to parties, honestly, dating (even you know fake, con artist style dating) is really complicated. Peter's voice is firm in my ear.

"You're doing really, really well Hannah, keep it up." He praises, and I can't help the tiny, proud smile that appears on my face at his comment.

"I swear I'm not a stalker, it's just uh…" I trail off, biting my lip. He tightens his arm around me, and pulls me closer, before surveying the scene like a king surveying his court. Unless I'm severely naïve to the foolishness of girls, the alcohols been flowing for quite some time by now.

"Just, what?" He asks with a grin on his face like he knows exactly where that chain of thought was going. I bite my lip again, deciding it's my new nervous habit.

"That was a really great kiss." I lie through my teeth. Sure, I've been lying a bit, but this one takes the cake. Franks is rough, brutally rough. Everything in his being is demanding, like he expects everything he gets and is exactly the spoiled rotten brat everyone claims he is. I'm a thief, and I have more sincerity in my pinky toe than Franks entire being. I wish I could see his face when he realizes he screwed up and got his Uncle's Picasso snatched.

"Glad to hear it." He grins, and I snuggle closer into him, try to ignore my gag reflex when I smell the freakish amount of cologne wafting off of him.

"So since I put in all this effort to get here," I smile at him coyly, "Can I get a dance?" I ask a playful note in my voice.

"Don't see why not." He grins, before leading me towards the mock dance floor. I can't hear the lyrics over the synthesizer and the drums, but I have no doubt they're extremely offensive. I slide up against him, and we dance, grinding like the rest of the room.

"Where are you, Jason?" Liam asks, and I pause for a moment. I can't imagine them actually having a conversation, not without one of them leaving with a black eye that is. It's not that they're complete opposites, they actually have many similarities, it's just that I don't know, they seem so completely separate in my mind, and there's always a hard tension around when there in the same room. For the moment, I'm just praying they can work together.

"Corner of the room, by the DJ, Franks must have a frequent buyer account with that guy." Jason comments and as the song changes I murmur a reply.

"He never leaves, Franks has him on the household staff." I correct, and Jason laughs a little before asking if I'm serious. I don't reply.

"What was that babe?" Franks coos, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Lovely, he's known me for two days, and he's already started calling me annoying pet names. Of all the options, babe seems to be the worst one possible, not there's really any good ones but babe is very clearly the worst.

"I didn't say anything," I assure him, as a girl in a bedazzled dress slides by me, scraping my arm with all those embellishments. After a couple of seconds, I hear the roll call continue in my ear.

"Danny, where are you?" Peter asks; his tone cool and calm.

"In the elevator shaft and working my way down to the security room" Danny confirms, sounding like he's gritting the words out through his teeth. Only Danny would volunteer to shimmy his way down eight floors. It's a great thing we know the elevators going to be out-of-order for a while. Though, Owens definition of a while wasn't too acurate. Danny better move fast.

"Don't slip." Liam teases, earning a grumble from Peter and an eye roll from me.

"Knock it off Liam." Danny snarls, clearly not finding the joke too funny. Liam probably shouldn't either, he's been dangling on quite a few elevator cords over the past few years. One time in Moscow-

"What are doing, Liam?" The coms unit crackles in my ear and I flinch. Franks doesn't notice, and starts leading me off the floor, his sliding lower and lower down my waist as we head to a dark corner of the room.

"What was that?" Jason complains and the sound of Owen frantically punching keys on his keyboard carries through the receiver.

"Not sure, I'm getting some interference from something, probably the DJ equipment." He assures us, but my nerves go nuts at the new development. The rest of the crew doesn't seem to notice as Peter repeats his question.

"I'm tailing the Uncle, he's in the house, but pouring over some books that look about three hundred years old, they seem like they're about art, Picasso probably." Liam relays, the bored tone clearly audible in his voice.

"He's looking into selling it." Jason guesses and I am inclined to agree with him. Funny I would've hated agreeing with him originally. It's strange how things change.

"Exactly, okay tonight is going to be our last shot either way, so everybody _stick to the plan_." Peter reminds us, but I have a strong suspicion he's only talking specifically to me. Tonight, I have to be flawless.


	18. Reflections and Reconsiderations

Chapter Eighteen

_**Jason**_

I watch as Hannah chats up the mark, biting her lip and sliding close to him. I taught her that smile, I should be feeling proud at her accomplishments, and I definitely shouldn't be wishing I was the mark. I swallow, and shake that annoying thought out of my brain. Fighting to stay focused, I cut my eyes across the room to the foyer, ever so easily, I can picture the short flight of stairs, and the bland hallway outside the safe. Practically hearing the Picasso crying out for me, I slowly start meandering through the crowd, briefly chatting up a - shall we say - curvy blonde, before excusing myself and continuing across the packed room. Without realizing it, my gaze drifts towards Hannah who's dancing with that pig as if she's danced like that all her life. Her dress rides up a little, exposing creamy skin and even more of her long legs than I thought possible. As I watch, Frank's hand drifts where it most definitely should not be.

Peter's voice is hard in my ear, urging Hannah not to flip, but she doesn't even seem to hear him. She just laughs and teases the mark, before lightly guiding the offending hand back where it belongs. The awe seems to radiate in the silence through my coms.

"Do me a favor and tape this meat head's reaction when he realizes the Picasso is gone." Hannah's hiss carries through her earpiece, and I can't resist a grin. It's nice to be on _this_ side of her anger for a change. As if to prove my point, she smiles at me. "Keep that hallway wide open, Jason."

"On it Hannah Banana" I tease and from across the room, I see her eyes narrow.

"Stay in character." Peter warns, not really helping if you ask me, before continuing "Jeez Jason, you're as bad as the rest of them, can't you stay serious for even a second?" He demands, and I throw my head back and laugh.

"What's so funny?" Danny asks, and I can only imagine what strange position he's contorted into by now. `

"Déjà vu, my dad was always saying that."` I grin, he always was saying how I was the only one in the family with my head on straight. Then when I'd start goofing off, he'd respond the same way Peter did. The memories bring a grin on to my face.

"Let's hope you don't follow in his footsteps." Liam mutters, and my fists clench. No one is allowed to trash my father, especially not some put together pretty boy like Liam.

"Knock it off Liam." It takes me a minute to figure out who had spoken, but once I do, I freeze, almost at the corner, and spin around. Hannah's draped over Franks, her head on his shoulder. She turns her head before muttering into her mike. "Quit staring, and get you job done" She orders, before flashing another smile at the mark. There's something different about that smile, a twinkle in her eye and a spark in her expression, which makes me wonder if it's real and totally not directed at Franks. It certainly seemed real last night.

…

I should be fine, I've done this hundreds of times. A job should not make me nervous under any circumstances. There are a lot of things that SHOULD be happening, but I'm not concerned with those at the moment. I'm more concerned with the things that ARE happening. The shaking in my hands that just won't go away, the sick feeling in my gut: none of them were there the night before my first job, let alone any of the ones after that.

I can't mess up tomorrow, I don't even want to consider what would happen if I blew it. Peter and Liam have made it crystal clear that I'm on thin ice, as far as they're concerned. Hannah's no different, mix signal after mix signal keep being thrown my way, I don't know how to handle this, any of this.

My life wasn't easy back home, not by a long shot, with the expectations, and my brother, and the constant strain of job after job, but I never had to worry if I wouldn't be accepted, now it's all I think about.

With a labored sigh, I lean against my windowsill, and move the light curtain out-of-the-way. I'm not sure if I should be surprised or not when I see the slumped, yet lean silhouette on the porch outside. I slip outside of my room, and downstairs until I reach the sliding door. Careful not to make too much noise, I walk on to the porch and over next to her. From this distance, I can see her better. She's gripping the railing like her life depends on it, and her shoulders are tight.

"You nervous?" I ask, looking out across the city. We're on the outskirts of the main part, in an older house than the ones around us, but even though we're close to the ground, the view's still pretty spectacular. I'm so caught up in the skyline and finding the familiar bits and pieces that I almost miss her answer.

"A little" She admits, pushing a stray hair out of her face. Her light brown hair is curled into a braid, and she's dressed in a baggy sweatshirt and soft looking pajama pants. I'm not ready for her honest answer, and maybe that's why I'm honest with her too.

"I'm petrified." She turns to me fully, and her eyes widen: the unspoken question written across her face. "I know that if I screw this up, I'll get kicked to the curve. There's a lot riding on this one." Her expression softens and she slides closer to me.

"You have nothing to worry about, we're not kicking you out." She promises, but I just look at her skeptically.

"Are you trying to tell me that Peter won't throw me out the window if I mess up the - oh so important - job?" My voice sounds bitter, even to my ears. To my surprise, Hannah reaches out and takes my hand in hers.

"I wouldn't let him." She tells me, and I find myself staring into her crystal blue eyes. She blinks and then looks out across the city. "I mean I owe you, for all your help with the conning thing." She reminds me, still avoiding eye contact. I hate that she does this, always downplaying any feelings for me, even the most minute ones. I have to get her to admit it, at least to herself.

"Do my ears deceive me, is tough, strong Hannah admitting I grew on her?" She laughs as I nudge her with my shoulder. There's something warm in her laugh, and I can't help the grin that appears because of it. She turns so I can watch her rolls her eyes, but instead of denying it, she smiles at me.

"Don't let it get to your head." She warns; the little light outside glinting off her white teeth. Gathering all the courage I contain, I step a little closer to her, and wrap my arm around her waist. She surprises me when she doesn't jerk away.

"Can I ask you something?" I figure, as long as I'm banking on this "fortune favors the bold" thing, I might as well see how long it'll last.

"Sure." She looks away from me again, and I get the feeling she's nervous about my question. I should ask something deep and personal, but I have other things on my mind. I pull my arm off from around her for a second and ruffle the back of my hair, feeling my face heat up.

"I don't know if I was knocked out at this point, or just not in the room, but I just realized I don't know the name." She gives me a blank look. "of the Picasso." She nods and the tucks her hair behind her ear again.

"Yeah, neither do I." When I raise an eyebrow, she hurries to explain. "We don't know which one it is, since it's been hidden for so long and it's not insured. An ex-employ from the security team tipped us off. And you were in a different room, not passed out." She grins.

"Yeah thanks for that by the way." The sarcasm positively radiates from my tone. She grins at me and laughs.

"You deserved it." She decides, and I laugh, as runs her thumb over the back of my hand. I had almost forgotten that I was holding it. "You know, this is nice… us, getting along, and everything." I smile in agreement and the gather my courage once more.

"You're right, and I guess… I guess I should probably answer your question, then." When I finish, she raises an eyebrow. "About me and my brother, and why we're different." She nods, and squeezes my hand, as of to say I should continue. "I don't really know when it started, but after my dad's first stint in prison, my brother was pissed, but I was too young to care, I just wanted my dad back. After coming back, my dad was different, he was more cautious, and he was always saying that 'you can't con an honest man', 'you only steal from those whose pride would hurt more than anything else' and stuff like that." She nods, seeming to understand, and studies my expression.

"My brother didn't seem to care, and always made a point of going completely against any advice my dad gave. I agree with my dad though, it seems easier to think that way." I agree, and trail off, as she continues that thumb thing she's doing. I've heard of sparks when you touch and all that gibberish, but the goosebumps resulting from that tiny amount of contact had me going nuts.

"I get it." She nods. "Peter never let us go too far off the deep end, I'm not sure where I'd be without that." I know what she means, if it hadn't been for my dad, I don't know if I would've known when to stop, I could've easily turned out like my brother, or even worse than him.

"I'm sorry, you know." I admit. She looks at me skeptically for a moment, clearly not having a clue about what I'm talking about. I reach up and ruffle my hair again, why can't she just read my mind, no scratch that, I definitely do not want her reading my mind. "For the whole - not answering your question thing, and then just kind of, attacking you." She gives a very lady-like snort and laughs.

"Attacking wouldn't have been my choice of words." She teases, smirking up at me. What I wouldn't do to "attack" her right now, but I can't do that, not if I have any hope of gaining her trust.

"Either way, I'm sorry, I was being a pig. I guess I was just stressed out over everything that was going on with my family, and you were there and…" I'm rambling and not making any sense but only the sane part of my mind actually acknowledges that, and that is an incredibly small section.

"I get it: sometimes a person's coping skills just go wrong." She cuts me off, thankfully. It takes me a minute to realize that she's biting away at her lip and fidgeting with her shirt. "After my sister…. Well _after_, I was nuts about defending myself: I was taking like eight classes at one point, it had become an obsession. At that point I was just living with Peter, and didn't know much about the business, other than that I wasn't supposed to talk about it. It got to a so bad that I stopped sleeping, and that's when Peter stepped in." At this point, I just had to cut her off.

"Wait a minute, are you trying to tell me you moved in with a guy who you knew nothing about, and was significantly older than you, with no questions asked?" I can't believe it, does she understand how dangerous that would be? She could've wound up with anybody. It's a miracle she's not dead. Hannah huffs and pushes her hair out of her eyes.

"Not really, he found me in the alley I was living in and started bringing me food, and eventually he offered to let me shower at his house." She grimaces at the memory. "I _really_ needed to shower. It kept going on like that for a while, and when he didn't hurt me, I started sleeping there." She shrugs like it's not a big deal, when I raise an eyebrow she just shrugs again. "I have good instincts and he didn't creep me out." How close she almost came to getting hurt has my head spinning. "Even if things had gone bad, I already knew how to protect myself well enough." Without thinking about it, I wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her close to me, she tense for a second, before relaxing into me.

"Just do me a favor, and tell me that you're not going to take any crazy risks any time soon." I beg, the idea of her in danger, or, god forbid, hurt in any way makes me sick. She instantly shrugs out of my embrace and crosses her arms over her chest.

"Why do you care so much, Jason, you've known me for what, three weeks?" Her tone is harsh again, and I get the feeling I'm on very slippery ground. Instantly reaching up and running my fingers through my hair, I think over my words carefully.

"Hannah, I care about you, I mean we're…" I trail off, not sure how to classify it. She raises an eyebrow impatiently. "friends." I finally wimp out, a tiny smile slips onto her face and her eyes soften. She steps closer to me and wraps her arms around my neck, successfully cutting down the distance between us. She leans just a bit closer, and I feel her hot breath on my face. I quickly wrap my arms around her waist and pull her body closer to mine. She manages to maintain that tantalizing distance between our mouths.

"If you really think we're friends…" She trails off, her tone teasing.

"No?" I manage, she's so successfully turned the tables on me that I don't know what to do with this new development. Our dynamic has always been that I'm in control, and I've just realized that if you intend to keep control with a girl, you shouldn't teach her seduction techniques and try to get her to break out of her shell. I've just come to this conclusion when she slides her fingers into my hair, and pulls my head down, so that we're almost at the same height.

"Are you sure?" She asks; I'm sure she meant for it to sound playful but it doesn't, and I get the underlying message. Goofing off and just making out for fun isn't cutting it, and I know she deserves better.

"No." I admit, and against all reason, close the distance and kiss her. She kisses me back briefly. Lightning doesn't flash and the Earth doesn't move but it doesn't seem to matter because I don't think I would've noticed if it had.

"I'll… see you in the morning then," She tells me, clearly out of breath, with an adorably bright red blush on her cheeks. She backs away and starts to slip back inside when I call out to her.

"So… are we good?" I ask, my hand in my hair again. She laughs that laugh I would listen to all day if I could.

"Not sure, I'm reserving judgment." She declares, a flash of laughter in her eyes. She's already inside and probably half way to her room by the time I realize I should respond. It's the first time I've ever let her get the last word, and I can't say I mind.

…

Another arrogant, Rolex wearing, pampered rich kid starts to make his way into the hallway, with another gold digger on his arm, and I'm unfortunately cut off from reminiscing about last night. Wobbling over, I lean on the stuffy's suit, and give the girl my best creepy leer.

"What are you doing with my girl, fluffy?" I slur, channeling my inner prick. The guy turns to the girl, obviously wondering if she's worth the effort if she settled for some poor jerk like me.

"Nothing." He assures me, his voice clipped, and he shrugs off the girl's arm immediately. She glares at me, clearly without a clue to who I am, and slaps me across the face, before strutting off across the room again. The tiny commotion I created is hardly noticeable, and she clearly doesn't have Hannah's background in martial arts.

"Nice job." Owen chirps, presumably studiously studying his computer monitors.

"It's all about knowing the mark." I sound like I'm bragging, but shouldn't that be allowed? I mean I've already run like twenty short cons tonight. I glance over at Hannah who pointedly rolls her eyes at me while Franks isn't looking. I grin back and decide I don't mind running a couple short cons if it means I can stay here for a while.


	19. Uneasy, Unsettled, and Undercurrents

Chapter Nineteen

**_Hannah_**

Another jarring crackle snaps in my ear bud, and I flinch at the noise. I'm so startled, my carefully schooled expression slips for just a moment, one moment too many. Franks looks down at me, studying my face as if for the first time, and I have a minor heart attack out of sheer fear. I force a smile on my face, and tuck my head back under his chin. Forcing my nerves out of my system, I skim my hand along his spine, and Franks seems to relax. Strange how just a simple touch seems to get a boy's mind on an entirely different train of thought than the previous. Just to be safe, I add one last safe guard to make sure his mind is exactly on the encouraged train of thought.

"You know, I'm wondering if maybe I shouldn't have come here after all." I sigh, forcing my face to look somewhat regretful, I can't let him get bored, I have to keep his attention firmly on me. Which shouldn't be too hard, but with a tiny glance at Jason, I remind myself that teenage boys aren't exactly predictable. Franks' arm tightens around me, and out of the corner off my eye, I see his haughty aristocratic expression quickly change from suspicion to desperation.

"No way, you make an excellent birthday present." He leers at me, and I have to force my stomach to not rebel all over his shiny _Jordans_. I glance at Jason out of the corner of my eye, because Franks comment reminds me distinctly of something he'd say. Of course, from Jason, he'd probably be teasing, and it would earn him a little elbow, not hard enough to bruise anything important. If Liam - on second thought - Liam wouldn't say anything so suggestive to me: that would just be too weird. To Franks, I just give a quiet sound of approval which seems to have the desired, or not so desired effect, depending on how you look at it.

His grip tightens around me little and he leads me back towards the dance floor, if it weren't so important to keep my cool, I'd grimace and shake off his arm, which is once again sliding lower and lower, almost brushing my butt. That almost better stay firmly in place or god help me, Peter or no Peter, I'll make sure that hand will be out of commission for a very long time. Once again I steal a glance at Jason, who happens to be chatting up some girl with perfect blonde curls. Brushing my hand over my own dull brown hair that hangs limply on my shoulders, I force down a bit of insecurity.

Franks pulling me into him and shuffling us over to the dance floor brings me back to reality. Glancing around at the other girls around me, I mimic their movements, uncomfortably grinding into him. This interestingly enough was not included in Jason's multitude of teachings. Franks hands move down to my hips, pressing his fingers in too hard, but I'm not in any position to tell him any different.

**_Jason_**

His hands are on her again, gripping her possessively, as if he has any right to even look at her, let alone put his hands on her. Anger erupts inside of me, refusing to be tapped out. My expression must startle the blonde I've been chatting with, because she mutters a frantic excuse and starts to slip into the hallway past me. Considering how close it is to when Danny will be prying open the elevator doors and disabling the safe room, this is unacceptable. I grab her hand and pull her back to me with a charming smile. She relaxes a little at my smile, which isn't a surprise.

"Do you want to dance?" I offer, running my thumb over the back of her hand. She grins and steps a little closer running a finger down her neck and around the collar of my t-shirt.

"Trust me, there's no need for you to charm me with what I'm sure are lovely dancing skills." She murmurs, brazenly, before running moving on to behind my head and running her finger down the top of my spine. As sad of a testament as it is to my rapidly dying party filled life style, I completely miss her meaning. With four brothers, lewd suggestions and reading between lines were practically a required language. Now, after leaving that life behind, and the new crew, and not to mention, you know, Hannah, I find myself completely caught off guard by her offer. Gently, I pull her arms off from around my neck, and gently push her away.

"I'm sorry but…" Before I could even attempt to finish the apology she smiles a little regretfully.

"I thought as much, to be honest." She shrugs, "still figured I might have a chance, even if you can't take your eyes off of her." She gestures idly towards the direction of Hannah and the mark, my heart sinking a little when I see the way she's moving up against him: I certainly did not teach her that motion. When I turn back to her, the blonde slips back among the crowd, not looking too put out at my refusal. That's another lovely stab at my ego; really, these girls aren't really doing me too many favors.

With a glance at my watch, I realize it's almost time and with an anxious skim of the room, I slide into the hallway.

"Owen, we all good?" I ask, my voice quiet. I hear him clear his throat and then there's some aggressive tapping on his keyboard, before he gives the okay.

"Come join the party Danny," Peter orders, and with practiced ease, the elevator doors open silently. Danny swings out, easily landing on the taking carpet.

"That would've been funner if you had let me use the C-4." Danny grumbles, and Liam, appearing from nowhere, whacks him soundly on the back of the head, though I have a feeling, Hannah would've done a better job of it.

"Let's try to preserve brain cells." Owen chides, and even I have to roll my eyes at that.

"What brain cells?"Hannah's voice in my ear makes me jump a little, like some silly, amateur, which I obviously am not. I've been doing jobs since I was four,a girl's voice should not making me act like a little kid again.

"Hannah focus," Peter chides, his tone clipped and harsh. I've always been fascinated by the different ways people adapt to pressure. While Danny and Owen get goofier when they're nervous, Peter seems to get sterner, if it's possible. Glancing back towards the throngs of party goers, I wonder what Hannah's reaction is. I haven't been able to discern much of a difference from her normal behavior, I mean I'm very well acquainted with what she's like when she's angry but the other side of her is still a mystery. A mystery I'd very much like to unravel.

The perplexing crackle rips through my ear again, and even Liam, with all his composure, reacts this time. My hand flies up to my ear when it erupts again, at this rate; I'll have a headache long before the job is over.

"_What is that, Owen_?" Liam snarls, annoyance playing over his features. He glances nervously towards the main room, and shoves his hands into his pockets. I wonder for a split second if he's just as uncomfortable leaving Hannah alone with Franks as I am. The sound of frantic typing carries through the coms.

"You okay dude?" I question Owen, a little anxious for his answer. This unease doesn't feel like regular nerves, it feels like something bigger.

"Still trying to figure out what's causing that interference, it's not the D.J. booth, I've moved us away from the frequency…" He continues with a lot of technological jibber jabber that you'd need a masters from M. I.T. to follow. "I just need more time." He finishes.

"Then let's split back up and see if we can give it to him, we have another opening in twenty minutes." Peter commands, and we slip back to our various positions, Danny grumbling the most as he slips back into the shaft. I stride back towards the pulsing crowds, just as Liam's voice calls out over coms.

"Does anyone have eyes on the uncle?" He asks, and surprisingly; Hannah answers.

"West hallway, turning the corner, I've got him for now." Peter starts to protests but she hushes him. "Franks is in the bathroom, I'll switch back with Liam when he gets back." Peter mutters something that could be considered assent and the sound of Hannah's clicking heels carry through the sudden quiet on our coms. I lean back against the wall, mulling over the past couple days, she seems to be starting to trust me more and more. Clearly not as much as she trust the other guys but for now, that's okay. Idly, I pick the lock of the office next door to the safe room, thinking back to the blueprints, which showed absolutely no security what so ever on the office, which is a little strange, now that I think about it. The door opens with a satisfying click, opening up to a cluttered room with an old sturdy desk.

"What are you doing in my office?!" A voice shouts from behind me, and I spin around to face an enraged Franks.


	20. Action, Aggression, and Allowances

Chapter Twenty

**_Hannah_**

The sound of a heavy crash carries through coms, chasing after Frank's shout. For a split second I'm frozen, tailing the Uncle completely forgotten in the wake of our current problem. Then I'm in frantic motion, scowering the room with my eyes and hurriedly zipping in between throngs of people.

"Hannah?" Liam asks; his tone panicked. I shake my head, the blood rushing to my ears with a slight dizzying sensation. I shove it down and force over a cool façade, freaking out won't help anything.

"It's Jason." Peter announces, and after a beat of my heart, I'm tearing across the room, slamming through people as I go. Hands grab at me, it seems, dragging my back, and ropes ensnare my legs slowing me down. I was supposed to have Franks under control; it was why I was here. And if Jason gets hurt...

"I can explain!" Jason protests, the sound gargled over the noise in the background, and another crash thunders through, followed by more interference. I flinch a little this time, my mind racing, trying to process everything happening at once. I'm spinning, spinning and spinning and spinning...

"Stay off the coms!" Owen suddenly shrieks, fear and panic racing though my veins in equal measures. "The crackling, I finally traced the frequency, it's…" Another painfully loud sparking, as if someone was holding a microphone up against speakers, cuts off his next words.

"Take them off!" Peter growls, and I hurried yank mine out my ear, dropping it as I keep elbowing my way through the crowd. Without my ear bud, I'm suddenly very much aware of how alone I am. This is all on me, and I'm not letting this happen.

Finally, I break free of the crowd, struggling to get clear. Clumsily, I kick off my impractical heels, flinging them into the hallway and skid to a stop in front of Franks' office. I hesitate at the door, pressing my ear to the cold wood. There's a similar slam to the one I heard earlier, except,so much louder, and I feel the door tremble. A sharp exhale of air tells me someone had just been slammed against it, and I don't think its Franks.

"Look dude, I wasn't…" That's Jason. He continues but my intention is diverted by even, purposeful footsteps coming from behind me. I rush around the corner, not wanting to make things worse by being found.

Peeking around the wall, I spot something that I know will make the situation much, much worse. Erik Palino doesn't strut, he doesn't prance, and the word "Meander" is not in his vocabulary. At the moment, there isn't anything in his gait that suggests stress or urgency. I watch him carefully, studying the most minute details, from the unconscious twitch of his hand to hip, and the slight peek of a leather holster beneath his jacket. I shouldn't have ever doubted that the ex CIA agent wouldn't be armed . I take a deep breath knowing that a gun changes things, big time. Someone could get shot if this goes down, and the situation's already perched on the cliff.

As he closes the door quietly behind him, I follow at a crouch, and press my ear to the cool surface again.

"What did you do?" The gruff voice snarls, and it could only be Palino, addressing his nephew.

"I didn't do anything, this creep was just snooping in my office!" Franks angrily defended. Jason sputters and protests, and I mentally hush him, he needs to keep quiet and wait out the storm. All opening his mouth will get him now is a set of handcuffs and a one-way drive in a police cruiser.

"I was coming here to meet a girl." He lies, and for a split second, I'm just a bit insecure, wondering who this girl is. Until rationality shimmers its way back into existence in my brain and I force myself to stay focused on the task. Now is not the time for irrational jealous freak-outs. The door creaks open just an inch and I gratefully peek inside the room, thanking God or Allah, or Zeus, or whoever, for small favors. Palino and his uncle are on one side of the room, with their backs' towards me and Jason is a few steps in front of them, his arms crossed over his chest and his expression steely. I try to catch his eye and get him to notice that I'm outside but he misses me entirely.

"What girl?" Palino demands gruffly, not crossing his arms like his nephew does, obviously knowing it will slow down his reaction time, I nervously eye the slight bulge in his coat pocket, and shake my head. I can't just rush into this one, if I go in fighting there's a good chance I could both of us killed. Jason doesn't stutter under the pressure like I would've, but smirks.

"I lost track after a while, I think it ended in an "a" though." He chuckles a little, and I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes. Franks seems almost abated and for one precious moment hope flickers its way into existence.

Unfortunately, Palino rocks off his heels and strides forward before walking around Jason, surveying him, like a predator does its prey. For a split second the angle he's facing is perfect and I can see the expression on his face: the raised eyebrow and the twisted leer, and I know we're truly screwed.

"You know the funny thing is, I found something the other day, after that incident I told you about." He nods at Franks, who mirrors his raised eyebrow. "A listening device, in one of your curtains." Franks posture stiffens, and he immediately steps forward as if to assure his uncle it was a one-time incident. Palino shakes his head and continues his eerie circle. "The funny thing is, I had one of the tech guys I knew from my old job trace the signal, which led him to a laptop, and he easily tapped into the feed." My stomach lurches and I reach up to my ear, to start to relay the message to Owen, when I remember my ear bud lying abandoned, amid hundreds of partygoers. "He found the frequency and all the information needed to hack into a set of military grade communication units. Unfortunately, slight static would occur as he listened in, but we both agreed thieves wouldn't be smart enough to figure it out. " The jarring static suddenly makes sense, and I have to shove aside the tiny prickle of indignation when I remember he's right. I have to stop myself from gasping when Palino darts forward, and with nimble fingers, yanks the coms unit out of Jason's ear. He rolls it between his fingers and smirks, as Jason's grin disappears.

"Hannah!" A voice hisses from behind me, and I turn around, ripping my eyes away from the showdown going on in front of me. Liam's eyes are wide and frantic, as he gestures hurriedly while he speaks.

"Come on Hannah, let's go, we're blown!" He whisper-shouts. I stutter, glancing over my shoulder at the door, he shakes his head. "The new-be can figure it out on his own, he's the one who got caught."

"He's part of the team." I remind him, hisses and pushing him back a little, I start to go back to the door when Liam pleads his case.

"No he's not, you have to look out for yourself and your family, he's not family." He hisses, grabbing hold of my wrist, and I shake his hand off and return to the door. I miss Jason's question, but I hear Palino's answer.

"Oh...I'm not going to be calling the cops, there are better ways to handle this situation," His hand twitches towards his pocket, and my eyes widen, realizing exactly what he means by "handling it." Jason's eyes widen, the warm chocolate features, positively panicked. My heart lurches out to him, and only part of my mind register's Liam's restraining hand, before I break free and fling open the door.


	21. Rescues, Repercussions, & Races

Chapter Twenty- One Hannah

Clinging to the bureau and stumbling, I step farther into the room. I refuse to look at Jason's face, though I can feel his eyes drilling through me like one of Danny's lasers on tissue paper. Forcing a deep breath into my trembling body, I eye the gun in Palino's hand. Reaching for it in the split second I have while they react, I pull on the persona like a costume.

"Oops," I giggle, and then purse my lips in an awkward pout , that I hope doesn't look too fake. " I was waiting for you, but then I got bored" I drawl. "And thirsty." I add thoughtfully, with another giggle, which almost gets stuck in my throat on the way up. Putting my hand on my hip, I act as if I'm truly irritated by the wait. "Someone gave me a drink." I grin, giggle again, and peeking at Jason. He's trying to get me to run using just his wide eyes, continuously flicking them towards the door. The sheer panic is written clearly across his face. He doesn't want me getting into the mix, just like Liam, except for much different reasons. I tilt towards Palino and give a little scared squeak.

"It's almost like a movie… oo, does he owe you money?" I snicker, before clumsily pulling out my phone while they're all still frozen in shock. I smile at the phone and snap a picture of the phone, including the gun pointed towards Jason's head. "He already has five likes on Instagram!" I squeal. Angling my face, I glance towards Jason and mouth "GO!" He shakes his head, pulling on obnoxious male bravado that irks me to the point where I'm tempted to break character just to yell at him. I wobble slighty, then glance down at my feet and tilt my head.

"Where are my shoes?" I ask my eyebrows crunching together. I shrug, before prancing over to the safe room and flinging open the door without bothering to avoid setting off the alarms. Channeling my inner Owen, I trigger as many security measures as I physically can without seeming too suspicious. The inner safe is still locker shut and I call out to them. "What's in there?" I slur and as Franks bursts into the room, chasing after me, I drape myself over his shoulder. He glances over his shoulder at his shell-shocked Uncle before responding.

"Nothing babe" He grits out through his teeth, and his uncle comes back to life just as I see Jason blend into the crowd, shaking his head and pointing out toward where the getaway car is parked, or was parked, depending on what Liam told them. I glance down the hallway and see that Liam is gone, without a trace. I knew he'd end up pissed that I ignored him, and went in to help Jason, but I didn't think he'd be that pissed. He would never have abandoned me like this before, and I grit my teeth a little, as Franks pulls me away from the safe room. I glance into the camera, propped against the corner of the room, and hope for the life of me that Owen has gotten control back. Palino rushes over to me and pulls my phone out of my hand, blanching when he sees the picture displayed there. Frantically, he and Franks bicker over what to do.

"The police will be suspicious, we have to get rid of it!" That was Franks. His uncle, shook his head, positively snarling.

"I've held on to it, and made too many sacrifices, to let go of the painting now." I've never heard such raw frustration in some one's tone.

"What painting?" I giggle, maybe laying it on too thick, but hey, this is one of the first acting roles that's actually worked and I'm milking it for all I've got. Glancing over my shoulder at where Jason is blending with the crowd, I remember I should be afraid, because both of our lives are on the line, but almost like an endorphin rush, all I can feel is cool, calm confidence. I know a rush like this could prove dangerous and try to remind myself to stay centered and focused, to acknowledge the feelings and file them away instead of being so caught up in them. She couldn't afford that, not now and not ever, but at this point the wave's already about to crash, and there's nothing she could do to dissuade that from happening.

Palino's eyes flash, and his hand twitches toward the gun he had just holstered. For the first time, something like fear passed over Frank's expression as he watched his uncle's hand move. Something like genuine recognition of how dangerous this all was seemed to hit him.

"Uncle, she already posted the pictures, if she turns up dead…." He murmurs, the previous anger having vanished from his tone. "The only way it will work out is if we play it out as a joke, I mean he's a _thief_," He hisses the word as if it's the worst derogative he's ever heard in his life. I smile a little on the inside, while silently thinking, "So am I."

Jason

I dig in my figurative heels when Hannah once again silently begs me to just flea, I will not leave her in the lions' den. Back with my "family" I would've just nodded and disappeared without a second thought, if she had no plan of escape that was her own fault, and she's have to deal with it herself. It was nice of her to bail me out, but I don't have to return the favor. The only problem with that plan is that was then, and this is now, not to mention Hannah is definitely not my "family". There's an ache in my bones, wishing I'm not such a coward, and I could've gotten myself out of there and swept her off her feet like in those idiotic action movies. Even considering the fact that, option A, was impossible, especially with a gun in the picture, I wish I could come up with some ingenious, crafty plan and still get the girl in the end.

Franks' hand lands on Hannah shoulder, and I watch her body tense, a dangerous flare, though its not dramatic enough for him to really notice, and clue into the fact that she's not drunk. I have to admit, that was an almost awe-inspiring play on that one. He starts guiding her down the hallway, away from the throng of guests I'm currently using as my hiding place, when he freezes, every muscle going taught, before he turns around and burst back into his office, finally noticing my disappearance his uncle on his tail. I catch Hannah's eye and she sheds her façade like a dancer leaving the stage, and whips through the crowd to find me.

"We don't have a lot of time." She gasps, taking my hand in hers, seemingly without hesitation, and keeping us close every step towards the door. "They could trigger a lock down any-" The words haven't even fully hit me, when a light blinks on in the hallway and the cameras perched on the door frames spin around, frantically searching for movement. Reaching out, I pull Hannah back, pressing her tight against the wall with me.

"Second." I finish, and her hand tightens a little more around mine .


	22. Old Friends, Origins, and Overkill

Chapter 22

Hannah

"Where's your ear bud?" Jason asks, his hand still warm in mine, and even though I definitely should not let myself be distracted, I find myself silently cataloging each obscure sensation and storing them away for later reflection.

"I lost it when everything startled spiraling out of control." I murmur back, as he starts sliding along the wall, edging towards the open doorway, seeking sanctuary from the oncoming barrage of security personnel. Suddenly footsteps patter down the hallway, and a hand lands comfortably on my shoulder.

"Hey! Coffee shop girl!" Never in my life have I heard such a strange statement at such an annoying time. I turn around, and there he is, Harrison Leonard, standing in the hallway, smiling at me with that mischievous twinkle in his eyes, as if I need more trouble in my life right now.

Jason

Some guy prances up to Hannah with a massive smirk on his arrogant face, and even though I'm well aware this is not the time for it, a bit of jealousy creeps in. That is, until I recognize him: Leonards, Franks' wingman and Hannah's first successful target. I remember my first con, that ice cream man never stood a chance. I look at Hannah, who freezes for a minute before smiling up at him, I'm not sure I like that.

"Hi! It's great to see you," She steps forward and then turns a little, gesturing towards me, "This is my brother, Orlando." _Orlando?_ Leonards seems to relax a little at my introduction and even puts out his hand to shake.

"Nice to meet you." He has a firm handshake, and I might've used just a little more force than necessary, but that's a story for a different day.

"Oh!" Hannah gasps, and I turn back to her, her eyes are wide with mock surprise, and her hand is in front of her mouth like one of those old-time movie characters. "I forgot, I gave your jacket to Harry." She bites her lip and looks up at him, innocence written across her features.

"It's no big deal, I'll get it later" He shrugs, and doesn't seem to have any intention of leaving soon, so I figure I can help him.

"Wait, didn't you leave your cell phone in the pocket?" I turn to her, mirroring her innocence. Her eyes widen and then she nods before turning back to him.

"I hate to ask, but could you go get it for me? I was just on my way to the bathroom." She asks, a soft expression on her face.

"Of course, it's not a problem." His eyes light up as he says this, as if he's contemplating the reward he'll get for all these little favors, if I have any thing to say bout it, that reward will be nonexistent . His slips off, down the hallway, and I can't say I'm sad to see him leave.

"Congratulations, young grasshopper." I smirk at her, and she rolls her eyes at me before turning away, muttering.

"Pompous, arrogant, possesive… don't know why I bothered…." Awww how sweet of her to say.

"And by the way…" I gently spin her back to me, surprised that she complied so easily. "Brother my ***." She didn't protest when I pulled her close and kissed her quickly, despite how impractical _that_ is.

"Come on, we should go, pretty soon security's going to swarm in here like a cloud of…" She trails off and a figurative light bulb clicks on over her head. "The Bugs! I can't believe I didn't think of it before!" Her eyes light up and dart across the room, unthinking of the cameras and the lock down we're trapped in.

"Hannah!" I hiss at her, eyeing the swiveling surveillance mounted above us. She reaches behind a curtain and to my surprise, gently pulls off a tiny black speck, I'm about to ask _what the hell_ she's doing when she screams, and I mean ear shattering, blood curdling shrieking, into the little nob, then she brings it up to her ear. Pushing off from the wall, I slide over to her, close enough so I can hear the voice on the other side.

"What the hell Hannah! Are you trying to kill me?" I never thought I'd be so relieved to hear Owen, even a very ticked off, half deaf, Owen.

"We thought…." I trail off not sure how to answer, they had peeled out of here and left us behind, Owen idiotically lost control... not exactly trust building statements.

"Yeah I know, I got it back, we're all clear, and if it weren't for the lock down, you'd both be safely tucked away in the getaway van by now." He sounds a little irritated, as if that's _our_ fault.

"Whose idea was it to have the bugs double as coms?" I ask a little amazed that no one in _my_ family thought it up over the, I don't know, 90 generations as thieves. Some days it's fascinating how much my family just coasts on it's reputation without doing much to maintain it.

"Peter." Hannah and Owen answer at the same time and she shrugs at me, having long accepted the genius I'm only just realizing.

"So how do we get out of here?"

…

Hannah

"This is nuts." Jason pants as we sprint around yet another corner, I look over my shoulder at the pivoting camera and trust my legs to propel me just a bit further as we hit the stairs, flying up them. I _knew_ I should've done more on the stepper. Not to mention, this dress was not made for high-speed chases, but at least I ditched the shoes.

"They were searching in a grid, and Palino was staying by the painting, now we've got them scattered." I explain…again, but it doesn't seem to have the desired effect on Jason. He seems to be holding his own running, but the irritation's wafting off of him in waves. _Whiner._

"I'm not sure I like being bait." He grumbles, and I roll my eyes before answering.

"That makes two of us." Pausing, I bring the bud up to my ear again. "Where to next?" I ask, I should be exhausted by now, but I'm still riding that seemingly never ending endorphin rush, this is going to be one hell of a crash.

We've been running for almost half an hour now, missing the security by inches more than once. By now, they've figured out I'm with Jason, at least in the professional sense. A part of me wishes that I was there to see Franks face when he realized who I was. I can just imagine the "punched in the face" expression that would when me a Pulitzer for sure.

"Around the corner, and into the bedroom on the right, the one beside the dogs playing poker painting, then you're going to move along the line of balconies until someone spots you." Owen instructs over frantic chatter and the steady clicking of his keyboard. Jason's just going to _love_ this plan.

a/n: Tell me would you prefer a passionate and descriptive Hajason moment or a peck like the one in this chapter. Review!


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